Some of us hide. Not that we don't walk about at night but we manage to veil our presence. Do I do anything to accomplish that? No. It just comes natural to me. But I've strolled right by other vampires you might know and they were oblivious. I love that. And I take no vows or have much in the way of spiritual beliefs. I view this as an infection... a possession brought about by an infusion of prions.... Yes, I'm one of those.... a modern day, scientifically oriented blood drinker. Look, Barnabas Collins was too. What do you think he paid Dr. Hoffman all that money for. You know insurance didn't cover that.
Doctor Franklin knows about me. How does he know? Because I told him. He keeps me away from the spiritual, 'noble' vampires and they've yet to sniff me out. Do I follow their comings and goings? No. And that includes the elferinos and elferinas too. I stay away from the mole people, because they scamper through every part of the underground and they whisper. They tell secrets. They share everything. The one you know about... the vampire called Tomas, or Jonathon, or whoever he is mushes up with Aura and Sylvia, The mole-king's daughters and they talk.
It's strange around here. So many of you know about the night world. You know about the life-eaters and cherubs and ghouls and I don't even know what else is out there... OK, the ghosts. We got ghosts and witches and moms that feed their kids shitty pizza and everything. And this is Philadelphia. We've been around since sixteen eighty two...Sixteen thirties if you count the Swedish and Dutch speaking people who were here first. My God, every time they dig a foundation for a new building they find bones in those horrible form fitting coffins. The midnight air swarms with ghosts... The thing is, you KNOW and for a few minutes here and there you know you know. But then BAM the door slams shut and life is all Cherrios and Almond milk all over again. What hypocrites you all are.... At least I am not that.
Let me tell you something about myself. I was that kid from the drama club. I don't mean 'like' the kid from the drama club. I truly was the kid from the drama club. That's why I'm so well spoken. I know Shakespeare and Eugene O'Neil and David Mamet and Steven Sondheim. Not that we played all that in school. Most of the time it was ANNIE, or GREASE or THE SOUND OF MUSIC. Nazis were A-OK, but not the other stuff. Though we read them. Not in school. On our own. Sometimes we'd run scenes in each other's basements. I was going to study at Yale drama school. Don't ask about the cost. Somehow it was going to happen. We dialed the C.A.S.T.I.N.G. number fifty five times a day. That was a line the unions used to maintain. It was like a telephone billboard. They'd list movies shooting in town... TV shows filming here... all that. I'd scribble down all the information on a little pad I kept in my room. Sometimes they wanted kids. Sometimes they didn't. And I couldn't go to every 'look see,' because of school. Like I was gonna be a professional quadratic equation solver, or Ethan Fromme interpreter. But sometimes I did go. Me and a few others from the drama club, I mean.
We'd ditch school early. Spanish was last period and the Spanish teacher was pretty dramatic herself. She wore long, swirly, wool skirts, wide leather belts and light weight boat-necked sweaters with the sleeves pushed up... and she lived in Center City (analogous to Manhattan) somewhere in the Twenties. That in itself was amazing. The fact that she was forty, while her boyfriend (a talented window dresser at John Wanamaker's) was twenty five floored us. This was late sixties, early seventies. But that's another story. At least she understood.
The auditions were in rehearsal halls, or hotels. Crowds would stream in. 'Cattle Calls'... They named them right. And I never appeared in anything. My parents wouldn't let me. But I went. And I looked. Just being close was something. But why wouldn't anyone listen?
One time they were looking for kids for Bye Bye Birdie, a revival set to play The Locust Street Theater. OK, no way I was going to be Homer, or whatever they called him, but I could have been somebody. This was in November. It was cold and dark... twilight by the time we got into 'town.' Stores lit up for the holidays. Kettle people ringing bells on street corners. I loved all that. Got off the subway at Fifteenth Street and ran all the way to the audition in the old Drake Hotel maybe seven or eight blocks away. Show people lived there... an ever so slightly shabby, but still stylish soaring tower maybe thirty stories high. We worshipped the place.
I didn't even have a head shot. My resume was a joke. I had two or three Polaroid pictures... serious look with a tie... casual sweater with a smile... Homemade Hollywood all the way. But this time the casting director seemed interested. She wrote something at the bottom and put my resume on the top. Then she carefully stapled my photos to it so they wouldn't get lost. Usually they just make us put our names and numbers on the back. Then, God knows what they do with it. People were still pouring in when we left ( me and two kids from school). But it was full ondark and raining outside... a cold rain. The streets were jammed with people heading home... to parking lots, or commuter trains, or the subway. We'd be soaked by the time we got to the Market-Frankford Line, so we ducked into the outside foyer (you know... the place between the windows) of some men's shop. The Carlton Shop, I think it was... and counted our crumpled one dollar bills to see if we had enough for a cab. Not that it cost so much back then, but we didn't know that.
So the three of us, me, Jerry and the singer girl named Janis, piled into an old, dirty Checker Cab and headed off... in my mind straight to Broadway.
But we never even got to Broad Street, for the driver took us someplace else...
And since nineteen seventy one, I've played a quite different role... a perennial sixteen year old sneaking in and out of the shadows...
My name is Danny... and I am a night fiend...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click AUDITIONS ... to see more Vampire Wonderland... click LINES ... to join me on Twitter... please comment and if you like tell others, thank you.
The ghost of the little boy polio victim who lives in the basement level of the townhouse waits for me (Jonathon) to come in every morning. I usually come back around three or four o'clock. Once in a while as late as six o'clock. It's October now. I can to that. He waits in the front foyer, siting on the floor by the tall clock. I bring him things...little toys... cars. He likes cars. I've never seen him manipulate larger, heavier things, but small toys are alright. He asks if I feel OK. I say 'yes.' Then he's happy. I know he doesn't mean if I'm sick, or not. He knows vampires don't get sick... not that way. But he's very attuned to feelings. Edith, our Jersey Pines, witchy-woman housekeeper says most ghosts are like that. Says they draw strength from the living people around them... from their feelings, I mean. He has a tiny, old, transistor radio that still works. I change the batteries every so often... make sure they never run down. He can manage to flick it on and off and rotate the tuning dial. Sometimes we hear it playing quietly downstairs. He likes talk shows. Loves listening to people discussing things. And please don't think that the basement is a cold, bare-stone cellar. It's not. We have it set up as a series of small chambers with regular plaster walls, opening up on a narrow, corridor. Some of the vampires sleep down there. Ghost boy has a room too. Edith set it up for him. Not just her. Sarah, my consort helped too. Actually, we married with a real ceremony and everything. But 'wife' seems such a mortal term and although I am in most ways still basically 'human,' mortal I am not.
Truthfully, none of us are mortal. By 'us' I mean both night-folk (me) and day-folk (you). The only difference is you shed your fleshy parts right away and we don't. That's all. (thinks for a few moments) I suppose there are other differences. You know how it is.
I'm sitting in the den watching late night reruns of that show where Bob Newhart has a cozy inn in a picture book Vermont town. I love shows like that. Believe me, the early middle ages were anything but calm and cozy. I like the den... not the larger 'family room' we sometimes call the den. I mean this little place. Really more of a library. No big flat screen over a mantle piece.... just dark wood shelves full of books, a couple little tables & lamps... a sofa just big enough to stretch out on... a wing chair... nice 'Turkey' rug. TV's a little old one. I like old things. Sometimes I doze off in here. Sarah always comes down before dawn to see if I'm alright. She wakes me up. We go upstairs. In case you don't know, we sleep in a regular bedroom. But it's fitted with special shutters, draperies and shades. Nobody bothers us. Edith put a hoo-doo on the house and the cops look out for us. Not all of them... only the 'familiars.'.... only the ones who know.
Vampires can live rather quietly. And I haven't worn a red lined, black satin opera cape in umpteen million years.. Sure there's drama from time to time. Pig Blood what's her name, the born-witch goes on a rampage... Ethereal, unbelievably advanced alien entities might encase the Earthin a salt water, oceanic-like shell roiling miles above the clouds. Edith might forget to buy aroma candles. Night-folk love aroma candles. We don't normally eat, so we have to get 'flavor' somewhere.
I'm worried about little Timothy. He helped Ca-Ca kill Esther, but in his heart, he's not a killer, just a scared insecure, ten year old, assistant killer. I'll talk to Doctor Franklin tomorrow night. Hope he hasn't experimented on him too much already. You know, three hundred and eight year old patriot reprobates tend to get a little ripe over the years. You ever see him ride that little electric scooter around town, dressed in his green, Eagles sweat suits, with his wispy, stringy hair flying out in all directions?
I'm beginning to feel something. Night-folk (vampires and such) are fairly telepathic. What do you expect? October's a strange month...
Dark things always happen.
(with that he dozes off, as the little ghost boy from the basement, rises up through the floor to sit on the rug and watch ancient, black and white reruns of TO TELL THE TRUTH)...
<more later>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click BACON ... to see more Vampire Wonderland... click SAUSAGE ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. thank you.
It is I, Jonathon. Come, walk with me. I love Philadelphia after midnight, especially in the autumn. Does the chill get to me? Of course it does. It cannot harm me, but I still feel the discomfort. So I wear a soft, black cashmere sweater over my white shirt and the zipper of my , trim, black, leather jacket is almost all the way up.
Look at this place... cobbled streets... old churchyards. Doctor Franklin's 'grave' is right over there, through that black, wrought iron fence. Oh, he's not in it. But if you're an old friend, you know that. I love the grand old apartment residences, all beaux arts and the like. Who's awake up there? I see the lights. Speculation is fun. Sometimes I hear thoughts. Sometimes I don't.
Oh, Billy, the one who transcribes this for us, wants two chocolate chip cookies. You'll hardly notice the pause. He'll be back. (pause) OK, he's back. Had three cookies instead of two. That's bad. The doctor said he should lose twelve pounds. Help his blood pressure. Oh, you don't see it, the weight, I mean. He's tall. But it's there. I've offered him a drop or two of my restorative blood. He says 'no.' Afraid to mess up his precious humanity. Think he'd know by now. See that little park over there? I have a thing for tiny pocket parks. Once culled a particular bastard right behind that bush. A cop saw the cold, blue flame. They light up like that and burn up after the blood is gone. But he was one of ours. Not a vampirino, but a 'familiar.' I nodded to him. He nodded to me... and that was it. After, I had a nice mug of tea in that coffee shop we go to near the Warwick. Might have one tonight too.
You came after the big event. Already culled someone this evening. She poisoned the girl next door... a loud mouthed cheap thing... 'ran with the boys' and all that. Insulted people right to their face. Called my victim a 'God damned, ugly, old witch.'.... Right out on the front steps she said it. Some of the other neighbors laughed. That's the kind of street it was, especially in the summer, when everyone was outside. Feud started. Everyone began calling the old witch 'F#CK Face.' So two weeks later, at the block party, she slips a real nice cheeseburger 'pie' in with everything else. Got the recipe from a free magazine at the Giant food market. She put onions in it... tomato sauce. I don't know what else. It was good... Baked it real nice.... Only the meat was recalled. She knew it. Came from a tainted ranch somewhere in Minnesota, or Manitoba, or someplace like that... Mad Cow Disease... Extremely microscopic bits of DNA, prions, they call them, lodge in the brain and eat it alive. Three weeks later the cheap, loud mouthed girl was dead. But so were four other people.... a cute, little toddler... the toddlers mommy... and some guy from the next block. F#CK Face used a scatter shot. That's why I killed her. Did her a favor, actually. Cops were closing in. You know some people say vampirism might be caused by a prion? But they're wrong. It isn't. What, a prion's going to enable us to sublimate and levitate? A prion's going to make us telepathic, or have 'divine' visions? I don't know why mortals can't accept the fact that 'magic' really exists.
As I sublimated into her bedroom I was mumbling to myself in Spanish... my ancestral tongue... well, one of them. Sometimes I forget. She wakes up and I'm there. Starts yelling - What are you doing!? Get the hell out of here, you Puerto Rican son of a bitch! HELP! HELP! HELP!.... I can't have that. So I vault onto the bed, rip her lower jaw off (God, how flesh and gristle shreds). Blood gushes out like projectile vomit. I go into a feeding frenzy and about twenty seven heartbeats later she's dead... Probably in shock the whole time, the woman, I mean. But her eyes... You should have seen her eyes.
Look, if anyone came running. If some neighbor started pounding on the door, I'd just sublimate up through the roof and get out of there. But older people have night terrors all the time and they already hated her around there anyway.... Don't feel sorry for her. There were other crimes too. She once burned a little boy on a charcoal grill. It happened when she lived in the country... a foster child and she covered it up and they never found the body and she moved away. I don't know what they thought happened to the little boy. I don't even know if they cared.
People thought it was a case of spontaneous human combustion. They always think it's a case of spontaneous human combustion. They can't accept magic, but spontaneous human combustion is OK.... It's like pizza delivery. It's common. And with an active vampire population, Philadelphia is ground zero for S.H.C.... Kids in town for college sleep with those blue, glass, squirt bottles of seltzer by their beds. I know. there're sites on line. I've seen it.
Had to race back to the townhouse and change because of the blood and all....
Now let me just walk and relax. You can keep up with me, but it won't be easy. Though at three thirty on a chill dark Sunday morning, I suggest you take a taxi. Look, there's a cab stand over there, right in front of The Barclay. Go. Run. Be safe.....
Then he just disappears. Either through sublimation, or other means, vampires can do that.
Man, he must have a whole closet full of those leather jackets.
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click HAM ... to savor more Vampire Wonderland episodes... click SALAMI ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. thank you.
And I sat there. I sat there and watched those soul-blighted cretins smash the skull of that poor, poor, man. I sat and I watched them stuff their faces with greasy tid bits and grab each other under the tables. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to sublimate and run right through them... destroy each and every one. Non-living matter survives unscathed. It's how we pass through walls. But living matter tears and shredded human bodies maintain their forms for perhaps two heartbeats before raining down upon icy cobbles and running into the gutter. Not that it has to happen outdoors. I just like that visual... vermin darting out to snatch the slimy residue.... Oh, God, I wanted to sublimate and shred them all. And then, as I condense and solidify, I spin around and throw back my head, dancing, as the tiny, wet gobbets of flesh fly from my body like a tornado of flies... Vampires love rain. We walk through it for hours. It calms us... cools the vapors and all.
But the thing is, I did not kill them. I just sat and watched, occasionally nodding at the inane things they said. I, who had a Visitation from The Holy Presence on the eve of my Assumption of The Faith (bar mitzvah) when I was thirteen years old and still very much mortal. I, who felt the words - I Am The Unity like unto there is none else. No thing can separate Me from thee. I Am The Creed for all creation, the One True Shining Faith. The Light Who shines through every wall. the Pure And Simple Thing (code for love). The True Road Home. I Am One so YOU are one..... And by that He meant the collective 'you,' all living kind, for in an instant, I saw the multitudes and many weren't human...When it happened, toward the end of what many call 'the first millennium,' I was frightened and knew not what to make of it. But now I know. Earth is but one place. Humanity but one form. And The Lord has children everywhere.
Just know I let Billy lie about us. I let him add things and tell stories about 'flesh renderings' and other gruesome decorations, because I'm told you want them... no, need them.
Wait till next post. They'll be there. But for now, this time, I wanted to 'come through.' ... Jonathon ben Macabi, the 'noble' (moral) life-eater who takes vows and 'culls' only those base souls unfit to live.
I guess if you're one of them, I can be scary too. The Grim Reaper doesn't have to be a monster.
I'm going out now. It's just after midnight.... cool and drizzly... fifty five degrees. I think that's about twelve or thirteen degrees in the French system they invented during their revolution. If you're out and about the streets of Philadelphia's older districts, listen for my boot-steps... I love trim, black, fine leather footwear. I love black jeans, handmade white shirts and black, leather jackets worthy of a demigod. Oooh, I'm so vain. Look for me... or don't. It doesn't matter......
I'll find you.
(With that he leaves the commodious townhouse, descends the white marble steps, rounds the corner and disappears into the mist...)
Only four more weeks of that accursed 'Daylight Savings.'
Vampire Time is upon us...
Let the season begin.......
shhhh... time to get your 'red' on...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click BLACK LEATHER ... to wander through all parts of The Wonderland... click LONG DARK NIGHTS ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. if you like, tell others, thank you.
Our vampire hero dreams. Sometimes he sees visions of those who should die. But sometimes he just dreams. He lies there intertwined with his consort, Sarah, in their (occasionally) rose petal strewn bower and he relives things. Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea (both names, totally, his) remembers everything. Vampires are like that. They can pretend to forget, but sometimes the forget to pretend.
He's in the high, granite redoubt of an Ossetian king, in lands once held by the mighty Khazars. The ruler, a mustachioed brigand from The Caucus, given to high, black boots and proto-Cossack garb, knew his guest was 'special' though he wasn't sure how. And Jonathon wasn't about to destroy the mystery. One courtier thought him to be the once and future King David. He has that look, you know. Another said he came from a lost remnant of the Magi, far to the east of The Persian Empire, for he saw him levitate toward the rafters one evening when he dozed off in the mead hall. Ossetian 'long song' epics can be quite dull when compared to the bards of Al Andalus.
But what came next changed all that.... Justice Night in the Hall of The Mountain King. A HUGE entertainment in those parts. First some functionary, dressed like the Munchkin coroner from The Wizard of Oz, purposefully strides to the middle of the flagstone expanse, produces an ass-hide scroll, opens it and announces the proceedings.... Two routine skull smashings... a death-dance and a 'stone jacket.' ... The skull smashings were 'meh.'... They manhandle a trembling, skinny man, who I figured was a shepherd, loose, pajama-like garb, some kind of small pillbox hat, sheep stink, sheep stink, more sheep stink. The Munchkin coroner reads some more. The man begs and begs. The invited, big wigs, sip their intoxicants. I suppose it was some type of mead, or horse urine. Graces fall off sharply east of Byzantium, save for civilized Muslim territories to the south. They picked at grilled lamb chops too. The rustic 'aristos' I mean....
Then they make the victim lie down on the cold, hard floor. Some lackey hustles out bearing a stout, wooden box, minus a lid, plus one side is missing too. They lift the incoherent victim's head and position it inside the box, lidless side up. The Munchkin coroner looks toward the 'king.' The king nods. The functionary beckons and a husky warrior, stripped to the waist, comes in with what looks like a big, rough, stone cannon ball hugged to his chest. It could weigh a hundred pounds in your measurement system. The Munchkin coroner functionary nods. The big warrior moves closer, holding the death-stone right over the poor man's face. He shrieks and tries to get up. Some plain generic 'palace boys' jump on he-who-is-to-die and pin him down. The functionary kneels and whispers something. Jonathon asks the king what he said. The ruler leans in and responds - My poo-bah (not a grand poo-bah, but a poo-bah none the less) has told the wretched beast that if he fears the skull smasher, we can always slow roast him in a cramped, closed, copper oven.... Jonathon exhales... Vampires, especially 'noble' (moral) vampires are paragons next to what so called, God fearing humans do. So the man grew silent. The king clapped and the stone fell, causing a rather large splash of blood and bone and tissue. They removed the box, sliding it back from the fatty gore. The head was destroyed. All that remained was a slushy mess.... For a few heartbeats there was silence. Then the warrior struggled to pick up the now stained and slippery stone and carry it away. Slaves crawled out on their hands and knees to clean up the remains, as others dragged the body off for to be burned.
Then court musicians struck up a lively tune on their drums, flutes and bells. Servants groaned under huge planks of sizzling meat. Their 'betters' continued eating. The king blessed all with smiles and waves, while behind the scenes they got ready for the next sad performer.......
<we'll share more of Jonathon's dream later this evening>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click MEAT ... to see more Vampire Wonderland episodes... click DRINK ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. kindly share a link. tell others. thank you.
Doctor Franklin sat across from a petulant Ca-Ca and explained - No, we can't get you in to see the Pope. Stop it. Stop it. And Don't give me that look. This isn't Star Gate whatever you call it. And if you kick me one more time, I'll have you locked up in the worst 'baby jail' on earth. You ever see Midnight Express?..... Ca-Ca goes - Yeah?.... He continues - Like that, but minus all the amenities....... What's 'amenities'? - You ugly old man you....... He studied her for a few seconds, then threw back his head and yelled - Enema girl! Get the enema girl!! Where's the God damned enema girl, you sons a bitches? She wants another one!!!......No! No! No! -screams Ca-Ca, as she climbs on top of the piano (they're in the rather opulent 'residence').... Doctor Franklin catches his breath and says - You are not here because we like you. We gave you a choice, avoid incarceration, plus I don't know how many law suits, in return for allowing us to study you. And by 'you' I mean Timothy and your parents too. The others have been quite amenable ..... Aide runs in panting and says - She's cleaning her fingernails. The enema girl's cleaning her fingernails. Give her two minutes..... Franklin nods, turns to the naughty, little killer and goes - Well, what will it be, naughty, little killer girl? And get off my piano.....
Ca-Ca climbed down.... The scientifically preserved patriot said - We only did those enemas to get DNA samples. Colonic walls have extremely ripe cells. And I assume after your ordeal, you know what we mean by 'colonic walls?'..... Can I see the vampires? - she said..... No - went the Doctor.... But, I seen, Dr.Luna. She's a vampire. She TOLD me! - said Ca-Ca..... Well, then you've seen one. So what are you bothering me for?... She sighs and says - This isn't gonna be fun, is it?...The Old Reprobate simply shakes his head- Not for you. And not so much for Timothy, though he's a lot less guilty than you are. Both sets of parents are a different matter. Jury's still out on them. But your mother's gonna lose weight whether she likes it or not. We also want to study metabolism in the morbidly obese...... She once lost a Slim Jim under part of her belly for a long time. Gas man found it...... How'd the gas man find it? - asked Franklin... He was lookin' for a wrench - said Ca-Ca, as she mimed using one..... Doctor Franklin just shrugged and poured himself a cup of tea.
A couple of large, white-coated attendants entered and motioned for Ca-Ca to follow... Do I have to go with them? - she asked..... Yes, you do. Blood tests and brain sonograms - he said..... She exhaled and fell in behind the crisply attired twosome. The Doctor watched, as she bowed her head and walked out... Then he rang a bell. Soon a staffer silently entered with a lacquered tray, bearing a steaming bowl of savory Hunan fare. He unwrapped the ebony chopsticks and began to eat. Then he tapped a button. The Impressionist painting above the mantelpiece flickered to life, becoming a flat screen TV. Mustn't miss The Andy Griffith Show, you know. He even whistled the song as it came on... Aunt Bea was a particular favorite... rather like he'd look (he felt) had he been born a woman.
In other parts of the facility, strange creatures and beings keened and sang their night songs. An 'almost' giant squid undulated through limitless iridescent shades in its tank. And the merfolk formed a tails-in circle and slept. A Jersey Pines 'witchy-man' hung suspended in the throbbing sound-web of the Grand Armonica, as the vibrating, harmonic frequencies scanned his body (and made changes).
This is where they did the 'science' that other scientists would not do. This is where they did the 'Philadelphia Experiment' during World War 2. This is where the people dance with ghosts....
The 'Anti-Enchantment Bureau,' grown from The Junto, still survives today...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click HERE ... to see more Vampire Wonderland ... click THE OTHER HERE ... to join me on Twitter...
please comment. kindly tell your friends. And thank you.
This is Jonathon ben Macabi. I know about the Ca-Ca and Timothy story arc. It's true! It's true! They're ALL true, except maybe that thing about the giant, human-like Edwardian dogs. Blame that on some old cheese. Edith left it in the refrigerator and Billy, the one who blogs for us, ate it. The refrigerator gets cleaned more often now.
The thing is all the Ca-Ca and Esther's murder events took place now, in August and September. He moved it up to November to confuse people, because some of their neighbors in South Philadelphia knew what happened. Plus the bum from the alley, who saw it all, ran around telling everybody. So, him, they had to kill. Doctor Franklin had one of his sleek, black, electric soundless cars pluck him off the street one night. The cops were in on it. They wanted to end this thing too. You see, Doctor Franklin and his people wanted to study the children. They wanted to analyze Timothy and Ca-Ca to see what makes kids kill other kids. And now they could. Better even, because they had the parents too.
Many of you know how large the underground, scientific installation is. The 'Anti-Enchantment-Bureau' spreads out for maybe eight acres and don't forget there're multiple levels. It all grew out of The Junto, an intellectual exploration society founded by Doctor Franklin in the seventeen twenties. And for the umpteenth time, no, he is not a vampire. The old patriot keeps ticking via deep and copious harmonic treatments on his Grand Armonica.
What was I talking about?... Oh, yes... the 'bum.' I hate that word. He was poor and homeless. He had issues. And now he's dead. They fed him to the merfolk. Doctor Franklin has a little colony (maybe four or five) occupying the big, maze-like tank once home to a baby Godzilla. But they don't do well all by themselves and the sad, little thing didn't make it. The staff dismembered it, sending tissue, bone and organ samples to biologists the world over. Still haven't figured out how a more or less dinosaur managed to survive so long and grow so large. Needless to say, the baby wasn't that big yet, since it was new-born, picked up off the Falklands. God knows where the parents are. Not to mention the siblings.
All merfolk eat human flesh, you know. They don't view it as cannibalistic, since the two strains are so different. And they eat it raw, right off the bone. Just stripped him down and threw the poor bum in. First he tread water for a bit. Lights were low to simulate evening. Then they began to drift back, the merfolk I mean, circling around him and brushing up against his skin. He quivered. He giggled. Soon they grew bolder, pinching him and poking with their fingers. They scratches his skin, the better to smell the blood. He tried to break away, but he couldn't. They were all around him, smiling and barring the way. One dove under, biting a little gobbet of flesh off his ass. Blood dripped from her mouth, as she broke the surface. The others laughed and joined in. The man screamed, as Bureau Personnel peered through the plexiglass and watched. Soon he looked just like a turkey after Thanksgiving dinner.
The Bureau, it seems, has a dark side....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click - BONES ... to see more Vampire Wonderland episodes... click - SUN TAN LOTION ... to join me on Twitter. please comment. thank you.
Posts
