SHUT UP AND CALL ME 'BLACKIE"

I don't WANT you to know too much about me, but I felt like contacting you just the same. Your 'friends' from Philadelphia are still on their Magical Mystery Tour over in Jerusalem. Who knows? Maybe they will manage to save the world? Me, I'm a bit more pragmatic. Gimme a plump, juicy arse to bite and a tight, little pice a pussy-cat to have fun with when I'm done. That's all I ask. Who am I? How old am I? who 'turned' me? The hell with that crap. Who the hell cares? I goes where I wants to go and I slurps up what I wants to slurp up.

Don't expect to find me in Center City, Philadelphia. Them what circles around Jonathon and 'Papa' don't exactly fancy me, so I stays outside the city proper, haunting the older, leafier, mellow suburbs. If you're ever out that way, give a look in the wee hours up and down some disserted, l'il, red-brick shopping district. You know, like the one they got over on Germantown Avenue near where the 'Papa' tribe camps out. (but I can't go there, 'cause them digs is in the city).

It's not hard scaring up a meal. All I gotta do is make with the silent howl and pull in a dinner. Some sleepy, little sweet birdie comes shufflin' down the lane, clutchin' her coat over her scanties and I got me my main course. Like callin' out for dilevery! Does I kill 'em? Well, that's for me to know and you to find out. So mind your own bees-wax  and just be glad I don't give you the little touch. (although, them that lives do tend to like my little touch)

Still, that Jonathon and his lot did share some spot on information. We of the 'night watch' can make with the crotch tango whenever the fancy hits. All parts are exquisitely preserved. All parts are in proper working order. So keep an orb peeled for a firm, little Elvis-haired, rocker boy who tends to frequent out of the way bennches and dark doorways. Sometimes I whistles 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.'......And I usually, sorta, really, kinda mean it too. Only seven and a half weeks till fall. I likes the fall...long nights...chilly breezes...lonely goth girls (remember Morticia?) searchin' for a bit a magic. Lucky for them, I am quite the magician.......

So, watch the moon and smell the breeze....

See the leaves fall off the trees.

Hear the geese tear 'cross the sky

Come to play, to dance, or die.

Ooooh.....I can smell you already......

Tell me about yourself. Leave a comment. Ask a question. Share a secret.....Shhhh.....Shhhhh.....Shhhhhh

VAMPIRES AND ALIENS

Just as our magnetic field protects us from cosmic radiation, our native contingent of vampires protects us from aliens. those pesky off-world low lifes have been trying to mess with hoomin beans forever. But the vampires resent that, since they're the ones with a God given right to pester us. I suppose they view those bug-eyed fiends as cattle rustlers or something. I mean nobody likes a neighbor dippin' his net into their koi pond.

So the next time you see a vampire, thank him, because, as we all know...HOW TO SERVE MAN is a cookbook!!

Also, the vampires don't want me to post anything tonight, because you ain't readin' it. They used to draw between 150 and 500 hits/day (one day 1,350!!!) but now it's down to ....well, I can't say it, because they're lookin' at me and I don't want 'em to cry. Boy are they emotional. But see for yourself. Look at the 'hit counter' at the top of this page. It's registered over 14,300 page views.....They think an evil enemy threw a hoo-doo on us. Doctor Franklin and his crew at the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau are looking into it.

Even such reliable vampire allies as 'the princes of the seas'....(the great whales) are concerned. Only the mermaid hag (currently a guest of Doctor Franklin's) is happy, but she crazy to begin with.

Come on. when  you were kids you clapped for Tinkerbell. Throw a little love our way. Click onto a few posts. Get your little buddies to click on too.

We know it's July and everybody's on vacation, but leave them Eastern European - summer-workin' gals ('specially in shore towns) alone for a minute and say hello to some old friends.

And since it is obvious that you are saying 'hello,' or you couldn't be reading this...say 'hello' a few more times and hit some more pages........Thank you for your support

EVEN VAMPIRES FEEL THE HEAT...and the 'end' of the world and all that

The sweat glands of the average life-eater still function. Every part of their bodies operates just as it did at the instant of their transformation. Each tiny cell does its duty. True, oxygen is no longer an addiction. Now it's just a habit. That's why the elves and the cherubs are presently swimming  with the fishes in Philadelphia's surprizingly clean, Delaware River. The cool dark water feels so good. And so what if a weird guy on the thirtieth floor of Society Hill Towers snaps pictures through his telescope of strannge, white, naked children cavorting amongst the wavelets? Who the hell cares about that? Every public fountain has morphed into  a defacto wet t-shirt contest. And somme a those 'contests' ain't even using t-shirts.

Doctor Franklin had the guys over at The Anti-Enchantment Bureau up the air conditioning in the Bigfoot and Jersey Devil habitats. I don't have to tell you how those hairy bastids stink in the heat.

Back at the house (vampire central) in Chestnut Hill, Papa and Luna put off their monthly feeding (which happened to be synchronized this month), because the thought of a stomach full of ninety-eight point six, streaming human blood loses a bit of its allure when the sheets start to get damp.They can kill a few nasty humans next week. What's the big deal?

And over in Jerusalem? Well, let's just say that a certain 'king' of all relics  does not rest hidden away in an immense governmental warehouse like we all thought. Remember Indiana Jones? Imagine, the only artifact wrought by the Hand of God.....and it's genuine too...

Maybe that's what's causing Doctor Franklin's Great Armonica to hum like that?

What's that day they're all talking about...March 21, 2012?.....Well, all I have to say is Scotosh Beedosh, y'all...

RAIDERS OF THE NOT SO LOST ARK OF THE COVENANT...or WHAT THE VAMPIRES FOUND

We are back in Jerusalem and I am telling you about the old man and Jonathon and the French knight, just like I told you I would last night. The three enchanted beings left the old garret and climbed down the stairs to the street. The night market was winding down. A few vendors hawked religious trinkets and reconditioned electronic devices. The old man (a vampire too) broke into crazy, manic laughter everytime he set eyes on any type of religious artifact. He'd yell --- FAKE! FAKE FAKE! LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! I have seen the truth! I have breathed the Dust Dinine!.....Then he'd just thrash about and scream until someone dragged him away. So Jean-Michel (the French knight vampire) took special pains to distract him. He whispered little gossipy tidbits in his ear, superficial things about others in the Jerusalem vampiric community, causing the old man to chuckle with delight. Jonathon, being Jonathon, couldn't resist ducking into a certain brightly lit stall to purchase a pair of hand tooled, fine dark red leather slippers. (you know how he is when it comes to trim, smart, well fitting shoes) But the whole transaction took less than three minutes and it's not that his heart wasn't in the right place, for it was (just beneath his sternum), but rather that even after one thousand years, he still often thinks with the brain of an eighteen year old.......Charming.

They snaked through a series of narrow, casbah-like thoroughfares, finally emerging into a large square abutting the fabled Western Wall of The Great Temple of Jerusalem......Well, not actually of the Temple, but of the huge, stone platform built to support the Temple. Small knots of the faithful, lost in prayer, petitioned God for all manner of things....peace and brotherhood.....the coming of the Messiah.....a cure for cancer..... a new Toyota Prius..... Bright spotlights bathed the politically sensative area 24/7 and spruce duos of IDF personel patrolled the sacred ground.

Some hasidic types were bowing and praying right up by the base of The Wall. The old man stopped a few feet away, took out his prayer cap, slapped it on his head and began to communicate with The Lord. Jonathon, recognising the liturgy, joined in. Jean-Michel stood respectfully nearby. Then, after a few dozen heartbeats, the old man impatiently gestured for them all to hold hands. They did. He led then round and round in a little dance, throwing back his head and laughing like a little child. The hasids (cherishing acts of spontaneous rapture) stood 'round them, smiling and clapping their hands.....Jerusalem fever....You know how it is.

After a time they began to spin faster and faster. The old man added a rythmic STOMP every now and then. They could feel a powerful intent, flow out from his body and enter their own. Then, after perhaps three dozen heartbeats more, they began to sublimate through the ether until they disappeared.....I don't know what the hasids though. But a couple of Israeli intelligence officers watching the scene on  a bank of security monitors saw the whole thing and feverishly began to call in to their superiors at the Bureau of Miraculous Occurances.

A fraction of a heartbeat later, they (our vampiric threesome) reclaimed solid form (well...spirit-form would be more like it) deep within  the shadows of a secret, rough hewn chamber far beneath the foundations of the Temple Mount, just as a group of Levites (a lower Order of the Priesthood) reverently placed a large, golden relic into a sacred niche. Jonathon caught a glimpse of the two guardian seraphim kneeling upon the lid. He saw it. and he knew what it was..........

A VAMPIRINA HELPS AN OLD TROOPER

Before we get back to the old man in Jerusalem, I have to tell you what Baylah did. See, this is why vampires are a necessary part of the human condition. It was late at night. She was back from her feeding (that time of the month) and HGTV didn't have any of the shows she liked, just a bunch of ordinary, middle class couples looking for plain econo-ranch houses in drab, start-up suburban neighborhoods. Like who the hell cares? So she sat there next to her financier boyfriend. He, at least, could eat a bowl of butter pecan ice cream, but Baylah, being a vampirina, could not. So she pulled her 'Lucky' jeans back on and went out to cruise the nearly deserted streets.

Most parts of Margate, New Jersey are straight out of a picture book. If Speilberg made a movie set in a cozy-posh seashore town, he'd shoot it there. Mayberry meets Malibu, but with good delicatessens and capuccino bars. It's also doggie heaven. No, for real. It is. I think it says so in the Bible.But when Baylah went out it was already real late. No cars. All the Mercedes and Jaguars were safely bedded down in  their embossed concrete driveways. Save for the hum of countless central air conditioning units, all was quiet. Even the sea gulls were done shitting for the night.

Nothing much to see except stylish, well manicured properties (artfully high lighted with professionally placed exterior illumination). So our Baylah (a beautiful girl. looks just like beyonce knowles), decides to sublimate herself through the vapor and go see what's doing in Atlantic City. She combusts back into the material world on a nice (but dewy wet) bench on the Boardwalk right outside the Hilton Hotel and Casino. An aged woman, kind of like a pot-bellied Cloris Leachman, but on a bad day, was sittting there. She was frazzled. Her white canvas cheap knock-off sneakers had seen better days. And I think there was a pee-pee stain just around the bend from the crotch of her pull-on pants. She was sad. Her gambling money was all gone. All she had left was her troubles.

They started talking. Turned out she used to be a kiddie birthday clown. Pickles, they all called her. She had two white doves trained to nest in her brassiere, a nice orange wig and everything. Got threehundred dollars a pop too. All she had to do was tell a lot of 'poop' jokes, roll her eyes, blow up some balloons, make fart noises and she was Buddy Hackett and Lady GaGa all rolled up into one. Shoulda seen her when she forgot to take her insulin.  Then the show was really something special.

But one day, during an intermission (the kid couldn't wait to rip open his quota of Toys R Us crap), some gassy little ice cream smeared bastid with a dairy problem barges in on her sittin' on the toilet. Suit down around her knees. Belly hangin' out. Magic, dove-less bra all undone. Smokin' a stink weed, but still sportin'  a full face of clown grease paint and her orange wig. I think she was takin' a swig from a little flask of Jack Daniels too.

She and the kid make eye contact, only they don't say nothin'. Tick tock, tick, tock, tick tock...about thirty seconds go by. Then (tryin' to be friendly, I guess), she holds out the flask and says ---Hey kid, you want some?

Guess it wasn't his brand. 'Cause the little bastid goes tearin' out of there (fartin' all the way), racin' back to the party yellin'----Help! Help! She ain't no clown! She ain't no clown! She just a drunken old lady!!

After that, she never worked the b'day circuit again......Just a drunken, old lady sittin' on a bench, late at night, out front of a heartless casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The doves (which she freed) could at least hustle tourists for polly seeds over by the entrance to the Steel Pier. Boy did she need a drink Baylah felt sorry for her. So she bit into her wrist and offered her some of her magical, life-preserving blood. The old woman asked if she was crazy. Baylah said --- No, just a vampire.......I guess that made it all right, 'cause the gnarled old thing took a few swigs. Hey, not Jack Daniels, but what the hell.....So her life was saved. Baylah felt good. And two days later, the old bitch got a job as an assistant bingo hall shill in training. Won about fifteen games a night......Ain't life grand?

Come back tomorrow. I'll tell ya what happened with Jonathon and that French guy in Jerusalem.......

NIGHT FLIGHTS THROUGH THE ETHER OF OLD JERUSALEM

We do not have much time. :Please do not look for spelling errors and the like. As you know, this is channeled via disembodied spirits and it is extremely difficult for disembodied spirits to comprehend the importance of accurate spelling and punctuation, since they exist in a telepathic environment.

I am not Zebulon. He is currently hovering about in some seashore town known as Margate, New Jersey. I am not Johannon. That one is floating over a fortyeight foot party boat docked near the southern Israeli pleasure dome of Elat. (did I spell that correctly?). I do not even remember my name. I have been dead too long. Well...you use the word 'dead.' But that is not truly what we are. Granted, we shed the mortal coil, much as a butterfly sheds its chrysalis. We go on to greater things.

Enough about me. You came here to learn of Jonathon, the French chevalier (it is their word for knight) and the mysterious old man (he too is a vampire). The old man has not been a vampire very long. Unfortunately, he was transformed quite late in his conventional lifetime, so he remains locked in a worn looking body, though infused with the strength of a life-eater. The 'event' happened in the German death camp of Auschwitz. He was one in a transport of five thousand Dutch Jews from Amsterdam. Upon arrival, young adults were permitted two or three extra months of life as slaves. Old people and children were immediately slaughtered. But fate stepped in to 'save' this ancient gentleman. While waiting (naked, beaten, shorn, robbed, probed {molested would be more like it} and shivering) for his turn to cough up his lungs in an orange, bloody froth in the gas chambers, a cold efficient guard approached and yanked him out of line. Soon to be dead , trembling little children watched wide eyed as the warmly dressed soldier said---You! Come with me!....and kicked him in the ass, forcing him to run toward a cinderblock building forty yards away.......They did 'experiments'  in that place. Gestapo agents had uncovered a nest of vampires in Dresden. One was sent to Auschwitz, where he was compelled to cooperate in a series of cruel and bizarre charades. He had no choice. His children were still mortal and the monsters had them too. So that day, the vampire from Dresden, drained all the blood from a terrified, exposed old man, mixed it with his own and forced it back into the thin, dry, shriveled flesh.

Yet the 'night gift' settles differently upon each soul. And the old man became more than a mere vampire, for now he had the ability to transport himself (and others too) to other 'realms, to other times and to other realities. For his first 'trick,' he winked himself (plus the head of a doctor he grabbed just prior to departure) out of that cinderblock laboratory and through the ether to a street corner in Old Jerusalem. A pushcart vendor gave him some clothes. After all, what was the sudden appearance of a naked, old man carrying the severed head of a German Officer (military hat and all) in this city of miracles? And a vampire, especially a sympathetic one, was just another species of 'golem.'

Tonight that 'golem' would use his powers to take Jonathon and the French chevalier on a magical journey of their own.....

SKINNY, LONG FANGS, SET IN AN OTHERWISE TOOTH-BALD MOUTH

They flew wilkravitz over to Jerusalem to help with all the internet stuff. It's not that he's such an expert, but he has an instinctive feel for the medium and is willing to put in the necessary time. A few impulsive vampires went out to The Dead Sea and engaged in a communal blood letting. They drove to a few different sites along the shore and did the same thing. Was is enough to turn the waters red, like in the Bible? No, not even a pleasing shade of rose (I'd put an accent over the 'e' if I knew how to do so), though it did have a certain calming effect. The waters of that venerable sea touch Israel, The Palestinian authority and Jordan, effecting bathers of all persuations and political stripes. And although we're told never to ingest salt water, droplets of that briny soup trickled down gullets all over the Holy Land, dosing a multitude of souls with peaceful thoughts and goodwill..........Government officials from various facets of the multi-planed crystal that is Middle Eastern Politics began to notice.

Jean Michel, our medieval French knight vampire and a centuries long Judean resident, took Jonathon to meet another life-eater. They went into a cramped, narrow, stucco dwelling just off a marketplace in the Old City. Four flights up, they entered a small, dark, garret-like cell. Seated on a hard, little chair (probably once part of an old diningroom set) was a painfully thin 'old' man with a nimbus of white hair and fine-lined, vellum-like skin. He craddled an old, yellowed, human skull in his gnarled hands and crooned to it, as if to a baby.

The French knight cleared his throat. The old man heard. He spoke, directing his words to the relic in his lap....Look, Lazar. We have company!- he said. Then he made a series of tiny clicking noises with his tongue, causing small stumps of rather cheese colored candles to spark back to life, bathing the dark chamber in a flickering, dim, orange glow, illuminating ancient, rustic furnishings. In truth, they might have been back in the time of Rabbi Hillel, or Rabbi Jesus........I know why you are here, my Frankish friend---croaked the old man. You want me to take you places. And your companion, he smells like an Iberian to me, wants to go too.....Then he clapped his boney hands and laughed, revealing a set of skinny, long fangs set in an otherwise tooth-bald mouth....But he knew his business well and after a short discussion, setting the proper perameters, they began to shed their places in our part of creation and sublimate into another.......