WAS BROWSING THROUGH THE VAULT AND DISCOVERED SOME OF OUR EPISODES HAVE NEVER BEEN SEEN BY HUMAN EYES. YOU MIGHT BE THE FIRST. (that is, if you're human). Leave COMMENTS about vampire encounters of your own. You know the score - We only PRETEND that this is fiction...
EVERYTHING IS EVERYWHERE What choices do you make? .
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Sunday, May 13, 2012
If JIMMY FALLON does it, we can too...
CLICK ON THE POST YOU SEE RIGHT BELOW THIS. WE PLUGGED IT IN ONCE BEFORE, BUT THIS TIME I MADE IT TRUER..... MWAH! I LOVE YOU!...
vampire wonderland: THIS IS NOT A POST-----this is wilkravitz
vampire wonderland: THIS IS NOT A POST-----this is wilkravitz: It's daytime, human lunchtime. No vampires are around. I'm not sure where they are, but no one is channeling anything through me right now....
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Snug Little Porch in the Haunted New Jersey Pines
Yoo hoo, it's me. It's Edith. We haven't talked much lately. All that parallel universe stuff gave me a headache. I'm glad the aliens we have here in our own universe are more discreet. I mean they do diddle with us, only they fix it so we don't remember much. Like a date rape drug for extraterrestrial species. And in this case, we are them what comes from someplace else.
Right now I am back in the Pines. It's pretty. The air is soft and damp. Everything smells like artificially scented all purpose cleaner, only it ain't artificial. It's for real. You probably catch a glimpse of the fringes of my world as you race down toward the seashore. But I bet you ain't never seed the real Pines. None a them big roads gonna get you here. Gotta sneak in through a skinny, old, unpaved access road, like what the fire-fighters use when the forest gets lit up. Dumb kids is what does it. No 'Piney' would ever do that. Hurt too much, like burnin' a nipple right off your tittie.
At this time (1:37a.m.) I am settin' out on this little side porch we got. Opens up off the kitchen. Not big, maybe five by seven feet. That's all. My hubby-man, Mister Edith, jimmy-jammed it for me. It is like a tiny nook built into the side of the house. Got a roof and everything. Like lookin out an open window, right into the dark maw of the forest. Hell, ain't but twenty feet a clearing 'tweet us and them trees. Any hoo-doo they got walkin' 'round in there could run up here in no time. I do got a nice. strong, painted wood balustrade, but what that gonna do? Scary shit know how to jump too, you know.
Mister Edith inside. He sleepin. Got them quilts wrapped all 'round him. Probably got that little radio stuck in his ear, listening to that all night, call in, 'how you get rid a ghosts and sasquatch' show. Don't them dumb assholes know you can't get rid a no ghosts and night-runners? All you can do is make friends with 'em.
I see 'em out there all the time. Bought liquor from a half-caste big foot once. But his feet weren't so big. Wore a nice, little pair a 'Chuckies' actually. 'Cept for that, he was all naked, not countin' the fur, I mean. Stepped out a the woods one cold, fall night. Smiled. Held up the jar. Swished it around a little. I said - You brew that yourself?........ He nod his head. Grin some more. I got out my red, leather lady-wallet and give him two bucks. Everybody know they got good recipe. Sort a like gin, or some funny kind a vodka. Taste like acorns too, a little bit. Real good. Some folks say they pees in it. But I don't think so. 'Specially not them half-castes. Never did touch him, though. Just held out the money. He pinch the other end. I let go. He set down the jar and we done did business.
I like settin' on that porch. Wrap myself up in a couple sweaters, turn out the light and jus' look. Seen an all burnt up ghost once. No, twice. I seen it twice. Come right up to the balustrade and look right at me. Don't say nothin'. Don't move. Just stand and look. Must a been a right painful way to die. Eyelids all gone. Skin all fallin' off. Hair all bald-headed, frizzy-like. And the lips..... Well, there wern't no lips. Don't ask me if it puppy or kitty. I can't tell. Everything burned clear off. Stayed there for a long time, almost til the sun come up. I did want to go use the toilet, but I was a little bit scared. Not so much scared, as disoriented. So I just sit there, squeezin' all the parts a my groin together, til it vanish right into the cool, dawn air.
Gonna go back with Tomas and them others soon. Vampires like my witchy powers. They got they own versions. But ain't nothin' like a real Jersey Pines, Pow-Wow Woman. Wanna find out? I gonna send you a dream. Don't know if it drip in a your head tonight or tomorrow night. But you gonna have it. And you gonna know.... You gone know real good.
I prefer passin' summers wit' them vampires, 'cause Edith do suffer from the prickly heat. And they do got good air conditioning...
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
kindly hit the SHARE button, so's we can pass this along. a COMMENT would be real nice too. much obliged.
Right now I am back in the Pines. It's pretty. The air is soft and damp. Everything smells like artificially scented all purpose cleaner, only it ain't artificial. It's for real. You probably catch a glimpse of the fringes of my world as you race down toward the seashore. But I bet you ain't never seed the real Pines. None a them big roads gonna get you here. Gotta sneak in through a skinny, old, unpaved access road, like what the fire-fighters use when the forest gets lit up. Dumb kids is what does it. No 'Piney' would ever do that. Hurt too much, like burnin' a nipple right off your tittie.
At this time (1:37a.m.) I am settin' out on this little side porch we got. Opens up off the kitchen. Not big, maybe five by seven feet. That's all. My hubby-man, Mister Edith, jimmy-jammed it for me. It is like a tiny nook built into the side of the house. Got a roof and everything. Like lookin out an open window, right into the dark maw of the forest. Hell, ain't but twenty feet a clearing 'tweet us and them trees. Any hoo-doo they got walkin' 'round in there could run up here in no time. I do got a nice. strong, painted wood balustrade, but what that gonna do? Scary shit know how to jump too, you know.
Mister Edith inside. He sleepin. Got them quilts wrapped all 'round him. Probably got that little radio stuck in his ear, listening to that all night, call in, 'how you get rid a ghosts and sasquatch' show. Don't them dumb assholes know you can't get rid a no ghosts and night-runners? All you can do is make friends with 'em.
I see 'em out there all the time. Bought liquor from a half-caste big foot once. But his feet weren't so big. Wore a nice, little pair a 'Chuckies' actually. 'Cept for that, he was all naked, not countin' the fur, I mean. Stepped out a the woods one cold, fall night. Smiled. Held up the jar. Swished it around a little. I said - You brew that yourself?........ He nod his head. Grin some more. I got out my red, leather lady-wallet and give him two bucks. Everybody know they got good recipe. Sort a like gin, or some funny kind a vodka. Taste like acorns too, a little bit. Real good. Some folks say they pees in it. But I don't think so. 'Specially not them half-castes. Never did touch him, though. Just held out the money. He pinch the other end. I let go. He set down the jar and we done did business.
I like settin' on that porch. Wrap myself up in a couple sweaters, turn out the light and jus' look. Seen an all burnt up ghost once. No, twice. I seen it twice. Come right up to the balustrade and look right at me. Don't say nothin'. Don't move. Just stand and look. Must a been a right painful way to die. Eyelids all gone. Skin all fallin' off. Hair all bald-headed, frizzy-like. And the lips..... Well, there wern't no lips. Don't ask me if it puppy or kitty. I can't tell. Everything burned clear off. Stayed there for a long time, almost til the sun come up. I did want to go use the toilet, but I was a little bit scared. Not so much scared, as disoriented. So I just sit there, squeezin' all the parts a my groin together, til it vanish right into the cool, dawn air.
Gonna go back with Tomas and them others soon. Vampires like my witchy powers. They got they own versions. But ain't nothin' like a real Jersey Pines, Pow-Wow Woman. Wanna find out? I gonna send you a dream. Don't know if it drip in a your head tonight or tomorrow night. But you gonna have it. And you gonna know.... You gone know real good.
I prefer passin' summers wit' them vampires, 'cause Edith do suffer from the prickly heat. And they do got good air conditioning...
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
kindly hit the SHARE button, so's we can pass this along. a COMMENT would be real nice too. much obliged.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Sitting on The Cold, Night Sand With Vampires in May
wilkravitz is not typing this tonight. I, Tomas, am doing it on a small communicating device belonging to my beautiful, vampirina, friend, Baylah.... She is the one who resembles the singer, known as Beyonce. Sarah, my beloved enamorada is beside me too. For those of you requiring 'visuals,' she favors a young Susan Sarandon. I, Tomas, still bear a striking, though improved similarity to a young and muy guapo Antonio Banderas. But many of you know this already.
We sit on the beach. It is almost 2am on a chill, May dark-time. I will tell you exactly where we are, since you will not believe me anyway. We are under the Margate pier, hidden amongst the weathered wood pilings, staring out at the silvery, moon-kist waves. I can see the bright lights of the Atlantic City 'Babylon' a few leagues to the left. In your talk, that would be perhaps five miles.
The cold, dark shadows comfort me. We sit bundled in sweaters pilfered from the lover of Baylah's house. It is the big white one just off the beach. He is not here. The lover of Baylah is in a casino attempting to satisfy internal longings with copious wads of American currency. Sometimes he is successful...but not too often. She did not want to accompany him, although she does enjoy playing cards. But tonight is her 'period,' so she did not go.
Now, of course you know vampirinas do not excrete excess viscous fluids upon the full moon. But they do something else..... They kill people. And not always on a full moon. Tonight is not a full moon. But it is 'her time.' .... And she has the 'entree' all picked out. It is a casino host, who has impoverished many a once-well-fixed old dowager. He butters them up (and licks it all off too, for all I know). He gives them free buffet dinners and cooked pieces of meat served in rooms with elaborate chandeliers. Sometimes he allows them to laugh at the burblings of ancient and near dead jowly comedians. Apparently that is a much valued thing to old dowagers. And then, when their money is all gone and the fifty five year old children are sick with disgust, he forgets their very names. But we remembered his. And approximately forty two hundred heartbeats from how, the thing that beats beneath his ribs will cease to function. Baylah will kill him, as Sarah and I watch and laugh.
I like the Jersey Shore. I like running my fingers deep into the moist, rough-powdery sand. Sometimes I find little squirmy organisms. Sand crabs, they call them.... small, white, turtle-like things.... for they do have flippery feet. I hold them up to my face...feel the feathery tickles on my palm and toss them into the sea. Oh, they survive....at least I'm told they do. Maybe I'll keep the casino host's fine gold, wristwatch after. You know, I do have quite a nice collection. Sarah has dibs on the diamond stick pin. I'm sure Baylah will walk away with a trophy or two.
Sarah wants to see Kathy Griffin. We have two ducats for one of her performances. The lover of Baylah procured them for us. I believe they're down in front. Maybe I will flash her my fangs. Oh, do not envision big, gross, cow teeth. Noble vampires have no such thing. Mine are beautiful, small, well-formed and sharp...like what a cat would have if it were my size. I wonder how she will react.....
Do we know the 'enemy' stalks our city? Of course we do. But this is a vacation. 'High Noon' comes soon enough....
Though it is a pity that 'Papa' did not join us.....
Please remember that all of these communications form a 'whole.' They are 'bones' in a story. If you desire to learn more, scroll down.... or just 'Google' the title --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz...... That is my 'familiar,' wilkravitz' actual name. He masquerades as the 'author,' because, as you know, we only pretend that this is fiction...
Look for me in The Borgata two hours hence. I will know who you are.....
+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+
please indulge us, press the SHARE button and pass the story along. honor us with a COMMENT. thank you...
We sit on the beach. It is almost 2am on a chill, May dark-time. I will tell you exactly where we are, since you will not believe me anyway. We are under the Margate pier, hidden amongst the weathered wood pilings, staring out at the silvery, moon-kist waves. I can see the bright lights of the Atlantic City 'Babylon' a few leagues to the left. In your talk, that would be perhaps five miles.
The cold, dark shadows comfort me. We sit bundled in sweaters pilfered from the lover of Baylah's house. It is the big white one just off the beach. He is not here. The lover of Baylah is in a casino attempting to satisfy internal longings with copious wads of American currency. Sometimes he is successful...but not too often. She did not want to accompany him, although she does enjoy playing cards. But tonight is her 'period,' so she did not go.
Now, of course you know vampirinas do not excrete excess viscous fluids upon the full moon. But they do something else..... They kill people. And not always on a full moon. Tonight is not a full moon. But it is 'her time.' .... And she has the 'entree' all picked out. It is a casino host, who has impoverished many a once-well-fixed old dowager. He butters them up (and licks it all off too, for all I know). He gives them free buffet dinners and cooked pieces of meat served in rooms with elaborate chandeliers. Sometimes he allows them to laugh at the burblings of ancient and near dead jowly comedians. Apparently that is a much valued thing to old dowagers. And then, when their money is all gone and the fifty five year old children are sick with disgust, he forgets their very names. But we remembered his. And approximately forty two hundred heartbeats from how, the thing that beats beneath his ribs will cease to function. Baylah will kill him, as Sarah and I watch and laugh.
I like the Jersey Shore. I like running my fingers deep into the moist, rough-powdery sand. Sometimes I find little squirmy organisms. Sand crabs, they call them.... small, white, turtle-like things.... for they do have flippery feet. I hold them up to my face...feel the feathery tickles on my palm and toss them into the sea. Oh, they survive....at least I'm told they do. Maybe I'll keep the casino host's fine gold, wristwatch after. You know, I do have quite a nice collection. Sarah has dibs on the diamond stick pin. I'm sure Baylah will walk away with a trophy or two.
Sarah wants to see Kathy Griffin. We have two ducats for one of her performances. The lover of Baylah procured them for us. I believe they're down in front. Maybe I will flash her my fangs. Oh, do not envision big, gross, cow teeth. Noble vampires have no such thing. Mine are beautiful, small, well-formed and sharp...like what a cat would have if it were my size. I wonder how she will react.....
Do we know the 'enemy' stalks our city? Of course we do. But this is a vacation. 'High Noon' comes soon enough....
Though it is a pity that 'Papa' did not join us.....
Please remember that all of these communications form a 'whole.' They are 'bones' in a story. If you desire to learn more, scroll down.... or just 'Google' the title --- Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz...... That is my 'familiar,' wilkravitz' actual name. He masquerades as the 'author,' because, as you know, we only pretend that this is fiction...
Look for me in The Borgata two hours hence. I will know who you are.....
+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+$+
please indulge us, press the SHARE button and pass the story along. honor us with a COMMENT. thank you...
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Kibbles and Bits of Something Like Flesh...
He did it in the bathtub. That's where he butchered them. An ax would have been better, but the old electric carving knife was all he had. And there were no neighbors around to hear, so that was good. A whole, big, high ceiling floor all to himself. They said it was a factory. Used to make all kinds a brassieres and girdles. But that was back when fat people still cared. Now they just bounce around like Silly Putty at a slow motion birthday party. Mus' be jelly.'cause jam don't shake like that....
This one was a political agitator. That mean she want a world what don't play favorites. Y'all can get hitched if you wanna get hitched , or jus' dance around in your underwear, if that's what you want a do.
The 'monk' didn't take much to all that 'freedom' crap. He preferred a whole 'nother kind a livin'. Spent his nights doin' constructive shit, like stabbin' prostitutes, or crack-twistin' the heads a kissy-faced, lover-boys. Learned hisself all them useful skills at The Abbey. Not the big one over in Scotland or a little piece a Ireland, or wherever it is. This just one a the branches. Could be in Maryland, or New York, or Candyland, or up a rat's ass for all I care.
He don't dress like no monk though. This one got his own style. He wear black penny loafers, white socks, black blue jeans and any kind a shirt he like... jus' so it black. Comb his hair like Juan Peron too. You know what I mean. Like a tango dancer... Jus' like a tango dancer. But he wear these earrings, one in each ear. Left one a little silver dagger, real shiny, 'bout one and a half inches long. The other one jus' a plain cross. It made a copper, but it molded to look like wood. They dance around when he move.
'Bout four a the dogs waitin' too. They are 'specially partial to dead-bloody-damned-folks. Look at 'em fidgeting, lickin' their chops and all. But they will not set one foot inside that old bathroom. You'll see. He got 'em trained well. Could a been circus dogs, or Nazi killer dogs, or somethin' fancy,like that.
Got the body all portioned out, like Colonel Sanders do. Only it ain't in no cardboard tub. It in a real one. Then he sprinkle on some kibbles. You gotta give 'em some texture, after all. They like the crunchy stuff. Last thing he do is turn on the shower and moisten the food wit' a l'il hot water. Not too much. Jus' nuf to amplify the scent. Then he step back and wait. They know what comin'. They do like this before. Big one lookin'. He want a move, but he know better. Don't wanna wind up in there too. Finally he jus' raise his hand... hold it up in the air a few seconds and snap his fingers. That the signal. That how they know. Then the 'monk' move back in a the corner, so the four hounds can politely sashay up to that tub and begin to rip and chew...
You know, animal gonna like what you teach it to like......
Next time he want a learn 'em a little vampire....
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Set your finger down on that SHARE button. Give us a COMMENT. Thank you and much obliged.
This one was a political agitator. That mean she want a world what don't play favorites. Y'all can get hitched if you wanna get hitched , or jus' dance around in your underwear, if that's what you want a do.
The 'monk' didn't take much to all that 'freedom' crap. He preferred a whole 'nother kind a livin'. Spent his nights doin' constructive shit, like stabbin' prostitutes, or crack-twistin' the heads a kissy-faced, lover-boys. Learned hisself all them useful skills at The Abbey. Not the big one over in Scotland or a little piece a Ireland, or wherever it is. This just one a the branches. Could be in Maryland, or New York, or Candyland, or up a rat's ass for all I care.
He don't dress like no monk though. This one got his own style. He wear black penny loafers, white socks, black blue jeans and any kind a shirt he like... jus' so it black. Comb his hair like Juan Peron too. You know what I mean. Like a tango dancer... Jus' like a tango dancer. But he wear these earrings, one in each ear. Left one a little silver dagger, real shiny, 'bout one and a half inches long. The other one jus' a plain cross. It made a copper, but it molded to look like wood. They dance around when he move.
'Bout four a the dogs waitin' too. They are 'specially partial to dead-bloody-damned-folks. Look at 'em fidgeting, lickin' their chops and all. But they will not set one foot inside that old bathroom. You'll see. He got 'em trained well. Could a been circus dogs, or Nazi killer dogs, or somethin' fancy,like that.
Got the body all portioned out, like Colonel Sanders do. Only it ain't in no cardboard tub. It in a real one. Then he sprinkle on some kibbles. You gotta give 'em some texture, after all. They like the crunchy stuff. Last thing he do is turn on the shower and moisten the food wit' a l'il hot water. Not too much. Jus' nuf to amplify the scent. Then he step back and wait. They know what comin'. They do like this before. Big one lookin'. He want a move, but he know better. Don't wanna wind up in there too. Finally he jus' raise his hand... hold it up in the air a few seconds and snap his fingers. That the signal. That how they know. Then the 'monk' move back in a the corner, so the four hounds can politely sashay up to that tub and begin to rip and chew...
You know, animal gonna like what you teach it to like......
Next time he want a learn 'em a little vampire....
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Set your finger down on that SHARE button. Give us a COMMENT. Thank you and much obliged.
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