PROTECTORS OF THE PARANORMAL in high places

Grigori liked this place. He enjoyed sitting out on the wide, slate terrace overlooking the surf. Mornings, or almost mornings excited him. There was just a bit of violet tinge down low in the south-eastern sky, but a powerful life-eater has no problem with that. Sometimes he plays a game. 'Touch the sun,' he calls it ---- step outside in the morning, just before the false dawn and stand there waiting for the stars to die. The air would quicken. It always does at sunrise. Birds began to sing. True a few sing even in darkness. But the grand avian overture heralds the light. Then he'd see the shadows fade away, feel the breeze and wait for the burn. The tender skin around the eyes goes first. Then the cheekbones. He loved it. He loved it all, for it recalled his humanity, though he was something different now and so he went inside. Once, long, long ago, he'd allowed hot, tiny, fire kisses to dance about his body.....Once, but not now....


She waited in the kitchen, a vast expanse of granite, stone and steel. Special shades sealed out the light. Ah, the luxuries of The Hamptons..... A vampire could get lost here and Grigori often did. She gave him a robe, thick, white and warm. He put it on, arranged himself within the arms of a commodious chair and waited for his 'night cap.' Every day the ritual was the same.... a glass of icy vodka..... some push-ups.... some pilates. Not that he needed them. His body never changed. But he savored the regimen just the same. And then they'd retire to the 'chamber.' He had many, strewn all about the world, snug, little berths lined with birch wood and carpeted with cloud-like mounds of Siberian Goose down. Now you know some vampires watch television from the crypt (Tomas hates that word), or tap out little messages on computers. But Usipov is a purist..... no candles.... no light... no distractions. Just him and a 'Natasha.' True, in the past he'd once had Bashias and I do not even recall all the other names. But his time in seclusion is spent in restoration. He loves and he sleeps and that's it. 


Guards, dressed as old Czarist Strelsky (akin to the French musketeers) kept watch before the twin, oaken doors (each painted in the fashion of imperial icons). Granted, he did have a bailalika resting in the corner, but he very rarely played it.


Grigori Usipov respects tradition. Contemporary society, the world over, apparently cares little for that.... but such things soon will change...


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AN EXPLANATION OF OUR STRANGE AND PIXILATED VAMPIRE UNIVERSE

Not much to tell tonight. The life-eaters are all tucked in nice and cozy with Doctor Franklin and the 'guys' down in the underground compound of The Anti- Enchantment Bureau. It's odd. Millions of people drive by the spot. You can see it from Interstate 95. The pill-box-like entrances to the subterranean labs, clinics, research center, 'menagerie' and residence (Franklin's extensive quarters are positively palatial) are all right there, but nobody ever notices. It's like a virtually unknown Area 51 hiding in plain sight among industrial and governmental installations. They still make ships there (not at the 'bureau' but elsewhere on the sprawling site) and international conglomerates still do whatever it is international conglomerates do. 


Some people (a VERY small group) claim to detect strange frequencies and energy pulses leaking out from the bureau's laboratories. They blame them on Doctor Franklin's work with the Great (or 'Grand') Armonica, a device he's been tinkering with since pre-Revolutionary times. The current model is huge and very much a product of the digital age. 


And for those who are new to all this, let me reiterate----- Doctor Franklin is NOT a vampire. That's not how he's achieved his longevity. The old reprobate preserves his physicality via carefully controlled exposure to the strange, harmonic energy given off by his favorite 'plaything.'


Google -- Vampire Wonderland, Doctor Franklin, Great Armonica for more.


I suppose a response to the mayhem brought on by Grigori Usipov (the Russian, nationalist, vampire, oligarch) is in order. Just know that plans are being made. Washington has it's own cadre of life-eaters billeted in safe houses all around the DC area, not to mention embedded cells within various factions of The Russian State. And not just Russia. But we can't tell you any more, for if we did, we'd have to suspend your animation.... permanently............ What did you think, they only lived in stark, poetic manor houses out on the English Moors, or baroque, little jewel-box, petit palaces hidden away on twisted, urban byways? Please! Some of them shop at H&M and everything. A few enjoy a James Bond existence, with custom wardrobes, fine automobiles and physically impeccable bed partners. (They're motioning. They don't want me to tell you more)


Now our Philadelphia contingent tends to be rather traditional, not in a Dracula sort of way......no coffins, or anything like that. But an urbane, metropolitan lifestyle suites them. Though I'm not talking about the 'elves' and 'cherubs.'  They are unique and remarkable in and of themselves.


If you've been with us for any length of time, you know most of this. But we get questions from novices and repeated explanations are necessary.


Please, ask us anything via a COMMENT. And tell others about this strange, apparently 'fictional' site. Look, We're not going to tell you what to believe, but..... you know.......

Thank you and good night. .....<episode 731 of the vampire wonderland..... enough material to fill five full length volumes....... Google --- blog, Vampire Wonderland. get us via atom or RSS..... you probably know more about that stuff than we do.... scroll down to the very bottom of this offering for more>

SABADO GIGANTE KNEW ABOUT THE VAMPIRES. SO DID KATHY LEE...(maybe)

Word of 'the massacre on The Main Line' got out. Two of the maids saw everything. They saw the greasy ashes smeared all over the sheets. They saw the tiny bits of human remains. At  first they couldn't tell what it was. But one of them has a daughter in medical school and she gave her a sample (wants a be a pediatrician ---- nobody questions fees for sick kids). Initially, she thought it might be simian, like maybe a chimp, or a chupicabra or something. However, after further experimentation she was certain. The re-solidified fat was human.


And the only reason the maids were allowed  to go home every night was because they didn't understand English. All English speaking service employees were kept on the premises for the duration. Plus, each and every piece of internet capable equipment was confiscated. Not from the attendees. From the help. They even posted guards outside to look for coded messages, via flashlight dots and dashes.


I'm telling you. This yearly event is a big deal. They serve that South American (or maybe Central African) cat shit coffee and everything. Diane von Furstenberg played a flute. Warren Buffet gave out pens. And they mapped out the parameters of  Third World development (which included an ever growing segment of our own, North American population) plus the weekend guest lists at various carriage trade, seaside retreats.


Oh, they knew it was a vampire. True, one of the cases may have just been an example of plain, run-of-the-mill spontaneous human combustion. High level movers and shakers are completely open to things like that. Look, they've been to Area 51 (inside the gates, I mean). What do you expect? And a certain, little, deformed Chihuahua with hands that gets carried around at a lot of these soirees isn't exactly canine. They tried to make him wear little pants, but he told them to 'go to hell.' So now they mostly just divert their eyes.... or pretend to. You should see him tuck into the cold shrimp.


So Tele-Mundo has the story. And I think the dancers on Sabado Gigante sang a little song about it, but so far, the mainstream English speaking media has been silent. I'm told Kathy Lee and Hoda made some kind of an obtuse reference, but they always do that, so who knows?


But Edith picked it up. And Tomas picked it up (he does speak Spanish, after all). And Papa picked it up...... Tomas has gone back to spouting his holy roller chants ---'Not the Shepherd, but the sheepdog... Not the Shepherd, but the sheepdog.' Sure he swore it off a few months ago, but don't believe it. That's just the way he is. Talks Hebrew and Aramaic (I can't tell the difference) in his sleep. Wants to be called by his 'liturgical' name - Jonathon ben Macabi. Communes with his long dead, former body servant, Johannan, and everything.


Look, go back to the first posts. Go back two years. You'll see how he really is. Annie likes when he rattles on in Old Castillian. Says he reminds her of the dad in them Spy Kids movies. 


Doctor Franklin says they should lay low for a while. So everybody's staying over at the Bureau. Annie likes it. The yeti lets her fix his hair. She's got him in French braids, cornrows and everything. As long as they got aroma candles and booze the vampires are happy. And they fix char-broiled chopped steak (with onions and gravy) for Edith and wilkravitz. Everything's honky-dory. 


Last night the Russian-vampire-bastid killed two guys at the U.N.. I guess it wasn't so honky-dory for them.....

This is Zebulon (the two thousand year old, disembodied spirit of a thirteen year old boy) signing off. I wanna see how the yeti looks in dreadlocks.


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supposed to be a line of sharks' jaws indicative of violence yet to come... forgive limited graphics knowledge.


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GRIGORI USIPOV the RUSSIAN, VAMPIRE TALKS

You are so stupid, you will not believe what I say. So let me tell you things. I am here to pull you down. I am here to destroy those who might save you. The one known as 'Papa' in my 'friend,' ..... up to a point. But my true friends live deep within the thick, strong walls of  The Kremlin. 


I am NOT one of those perverse, effeminate vampires 'liberated' from the Germans in the last days of The War. I despise  them and have crushed the skulls of many.... My sojourn in The Land began with Nevsky. We fought our own Crusades...against invaders and usurpers from The East. Do you know, that for a time, we volunteered our services to the petty king-lings of the Franks and the Latins and the Celts? Prince Michael himself, had a golden chariot shipped to St. Jean de Acre in preparation for his triumphal march through The Holy City. But to the evil standard bearers of the western 'faith' we were simply heretics and our patriarchs and metropolitans none but glorious bawds, festooned like Byzantine whores...... They were jealous of the gold. That's what it was. We were rich and they were poor. They called us Jews, forgetting that it was the Jewish Khazars themselves who stopped the Saracens from grinding them to dust. ..... So we stayed home and fought the Swedes. The Saracens of The North, if you will. And we defeated them.


Soon, we shall do the same to you and this un-congealed, loose amalgamation of Europe's lesser sons you call a nation will return to the Red Men once more.


Just know that I 'dined' well last night. Poets and alchemists (scientists) and statesmen and bores, I ate them all. Look not for the lurid stories in your wretched media. Oh, they know. They saw. They smelled it all. 


A convocation, not unlike that flaccid, though ambitious Tri-Lateral-Commission, gathered in a palatial, Main Line mansion to plot the course of 'empire.'........ Your empire. They drank vintage wines and nibbled fine fillets. But 'another' came to the banquet. too... and he ate even more. 


Now please know this was not a cheap homage to The Grande Guignol . No painted, Paris tawdriness for me. I am too much the aristocrat for that, preferring to drift through walls like a tortured dream, alighting atop slumbering 'great' ones like pussy in the crib, drawing in each tiny dram of their lives, as cats suck breath from babies.


I..... am..... so..... bad.


And there's no way you can stop me.


Baba Yaga taught me well.....


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FILM NOIR...VAMPIRE STYLE...

Conrad made his kill. The old man died and he was satisfied. I cannot tell you his crimes. Just know that they were numerous and deep. 


When he sublimated into the room, the skinny, old bastid sat up and said - Jesus Christ! Who are you!?....... But Conrad, never much for small talk, didn't answer. That's not his pattern. He doesn't converse with them, or in any way acknowledge their humanity...or lack of it.


Just a quick, clean meal in a dusty room by the muted yellow light of a small, cheap lamp. A 'thousand-legger' raced up the wall. Perhaps she told others what she saw?


When it was over, Conrad rode down to the lobby. He looked for the drunk, but he wasn't there..... neither was the ripped-off head. Who knows? Maybe the drunk tried to pawn it? Must be a market for something like that. Right? Santoria? Voo-doo? Itinerant head-hunters? Who knows?


The rest of the doorman lay crumpled behind the old, mohair sofa. And the inexpensive, off-brand, little, flat-screen TV droned on, selling the latest in penile catheters by the gross. 


Conrad wished he'd 'taken' the doorman too. At least the cold, blue flame would have cleaned things up. Vampire blood-feasts disappear. Vampire murder victims just lie there. But the old man came to him in a vision. It was his time. The doorman did not. Yet he wound up dead, just the same. 


So the newly minted vampire walked back to join the others, snug beneath the old, Philadelphia Navy Yard, deep within  the sterile, maze-like corridors of the Anti-Enchantment- Bureau. He kept to the dark narrow alleys meant for delivery trucks. A few, raggedy dumpster divers might have seen him pass, but they had other, more important things they had to do...


Tomas, Sarah and Luna were playing Yahtzee when he walked in.... Doctor Franklin and Annie had gone off too groom the Yeti. As you know, the Bureau houses many exotic specimens.

And thus goes another night in EL MUNDO VAMPIRISMO............


But 'the Russian's' was more exciting.....


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A VAMPIRE KILLING ON THE WAY BACK TO THE ANTI-ENCHANTMENT-BUREAU

They never saw Johnny-Jump-Up. Papa felt some tingles. Knew he was down by the river, but not all ghouls are easy to home in on. Zombie hunts give vampires fits. They're not good with all the 'noxious' types, even noxious vampires. The ones we deal with are very cultivated and refined. Call themselves 'noble.' Not necessarily like Downton abbey noble. More like them inert gases they got on the periodic table, though some do tend to be a little gentrified. 


They driver took 'em all back to the Bureau. Stopped to pick up Luna too. The other vampires said she stunk from fake maple syrup. Annie said it reminded her of decomposing bodies. You know, when they get all gooey and all? Tomas said - Don't be rude..... So she shut up, but made fart noises with her mouth. They just ignored her. 


Then Conrad all of a sudden goes berserk. Starts yellin' - Stop the car! Stop the car! I gotta get out! I gotta get out! I gotta kill somebody! I gotta KILL SOMEBODY!!!........... Sarah said - How do you know?............... But he was foamin' at the mouth by then and his eyes were rollin' back in his head. Tomas said he must a had a 'vision.' It can get real visceral like that, especially in a new-born. So the driver slammed on the brakes.


Conrad bolts from the limo and goes skipping, or limping, or galloping down the street, 'cause like his leg was asleep. That can happen to vampires too, you know. And you gotta expect it when they're packed into a car real tight like that. Annie wants a go with him, but Tomas holds her back. He says - No, let him face it on his own. 


So he runs down Broad Street and swerves into Lombard or Pine or some place like that. Driver says - Should I wait?.......... None of the vampires answer, til finally Doctor Franklin exhales and says - No, take us home..... He never liked Conrad, anyway. 


Now for two days and two nights, our former, almost-monk been havin' visions of a real bad, old man what lives up on the forth floor of a little, red brick apartment building. So his instincts take over and he FINDS the place. Even 'sees' the number, four-fifteen. Any other vampire would a just levitated up and sublimated through the window. Windows is easier than walls. Them rattly, old wood windows best of all.  But Conrad don't know that. He like what you might call a real dope. So he go in the little lobby, lookin' for somebody to help him. There was a doorman, but he settin' on a old, mohair love seat watchin' reruns a Million Dollar Listing, L.A. on some cheap, nineteen inch flat screen they got on a little table. He waitin' for Josh (Altman) a punch Madison real hard. That what he want. So Conrad's intrusion got him all disgusted. He say - Yes? What can I do for you, you crazy, lookin', son-of-a-bitch?............ Conrad say - Lemme into 415! You gotta lemme into 415! An' all the while he jumpin' from foot to foot like he gotta take a piss......... Doorman say - Yeah? Well, go to hell, you God-damn bastid, 'cause I ain't gonna do it!......... He know everybody what live there. And he know alls they mush up wit'. An' he doan know Conrad. So Conrad (by now all panicky) starts yellin' - Oh, God! Oh, God!......... And he grabs the guys head and twists it all the way 'round, til it POP off, jus' like a clown in a metal crank box, 'cept without no Pop Go the Weasel.......... Old drunk dozin' in a corner go - Shit, now you gonna have to go clean up that mess....... But Conrad don't answer him. He take a whole mess a keys off the headless Doorman's body. (they was in his pocket) Drunk say - You doan need no keys. It push button...... Then he get hisself up and stumble over. Nine seconds later Conrad goin' up in a 'monia smellin', old elevator. 'Fore the door close he go - Thank you..... and tip the guy five bucks.


Now Annie his 'mama.' She feel somethin'. She hear somethin'. So she start laughin' and laughin' and laughin' til Luna haul off and smack her in the face.....


Old bastid in 415 doan know what comin'. He layin' in bed, listening to George Noury talk 'bout aliens and ghostises and folks what got theyselves spontaneous combusted. He like that radio program. Hate all the commercials, but he like it anyway.


An' now he gonna learn 'bout all that paranormal crap first hand.......


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RIDING AROUND IN A BIG, BLACK STRETCH LIMO WITH DOCTOR FRANKLIN AND SOME A THE VAMPIRES

Sometimes they do that, especially on hot summer nights. Doctor Franklin calls out a car, a BIG car, a stretch limo. Sorry 'bout not typin' out the word in full, but I cannot spell it that way, OK? They like the old, black one. Blends right into the shadows. 

Tomas thinks car air conditioning is the best. He likes when they crank it all the way up. Relaxes him. Sarah don't care and Luna ain't with 'em. She went out for pancakes with a nurse she friendly wit'. Not that she eat 'em. But, you know, you can mash up a plate a real wet, syrupy pancakes real good and waitress won't even know. She think like maybe you just a light eater or something. 'Sides, most of 'em workin' where they go is  reconstituted 'X' jailbirds and they don't care none anyway. 

Doctor Franklin say they lookin' for Johnny- Jump- Up, but he don't kill folks on a regular schedule (like lunar-sync vampires) so they might as well be lookin' for Judge Crater (Google him). I do not know the name of the driver. He jus' some guy from the bureau. And it a very big bureau..... I wonder if they call pint sized government thingies 'nightstands'? ....... Annie make 'em stop at The Four Seasons Hotel. She like a little shop they got in there, 'cause they sell coloring books. Wanna get herself a Kim Kardashian one, 'cause her ass look like big hearts in all them pictures and Annie like hearts.

Conrad wanna know how come that Russian vampire get a take a piss. He thought life-eaters don't gotta do that no more. Papa say they usually  do not. But if they want to, like for old times sake, they can conjure up a whole lot a piss, only it come out like blood, 'stead a rancid Windex. Tomas (you know how fussy he is) say he NEVER piss, 'cause no matter what you do, it gonna leave stains on you clothes. Sarah say, far as she know, lady vampires never piss too. And they only carry Kotex 'cause it look normal. But not like if you a old lady vampire, 'cause then it jus' gonna look crazy.

Neanderthal guy sittin' on the jump seat. He throwin' peanuts at the hookers. Mus' be somethin' they do back in Bedrock. I doan know who gave him all them peanuts. Annie say he get 'em from the mini-bar. Damn..... mus' think like a elephant stayin' in that room.

Tomas say Johnny-Jump-Up once partial to a crypt in Laurel Hill Cemetery. So they snake through a bunch a tiny, little side streets til they get there. Go through a lot a rough places too. Seed a guy chasin' a fat, sloppy bastid in tightie-whities 'cross a whole block a hot, black, tar, row house roof-tops. Dogs barkin'. Women screamin'. An' it late. It real late. Guy had a gun too. But it jus' a bee-bee gun. Fat guy bleedin' a little from part a his left butt-cheek, yet I do not think the wound was in any way life threatening. Still, you never know.

Annie start cryin' how she wanna bee-bee gun too. So Papa go VOOM! out the window and fly up in a air. Grab it (the gun, I mean) right out the hand a the rough guy. Dog's barkin'. Women clappin'. Some ice-cream truck showed up, but I don't know where it came from. Maybe it was water-ice... Then he go VOOM! back in a car. Annie so happy! She do like her toys. Wanna see if she can hit a few crack-heads and homeless guys. But Tomas tell her that would be a sin, so  she jus' shoots at a couple rats, instead.

Three hour later Philadelphia Daily News wanna know if Papa The Green Lantern, or The Shadow. But none a the women what seen it can tell and they wouldn't know the difference anyway.

An' Johnny-Jump-Up? He all curled up in the rafters of a pier what hold up Dave & Buster's. That way he throw the victim right in the river. You know ghouls do tend to be lazy sometimes. An' zombie ghouls is worst laziest of all.....

The Russian (vampire)  guy? Never did find him...not that night anyway...

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