CAVE MAN RHAPSODY -- a Neanderthal 'tourist' on the streets of Philadelphia

They dressed him like a local...like somebody you'd see prowling the wee hour streets of Center City (think manhattan) Philadelphia on a Sunday night. Straight leg, Wrangler jeans, a Chase Utley, number 26 jersey (the pinstripe one), white ankle socks and some original, black low cut 'Chuckies.' I think they gave him a baseball cap too. Did he look strange? Did he appear out of place? Not at all. In fact, most people would consider him to be quite good looking. You know, Neanderthals, both male and female, sport gymnast builds. Facial features, as we've said, tend to be strong. And the small, shapely chin resembles many seen in the best examples of Japanese Anime. (did I spell that right, or does it mean something else?) The over developed brow ridge might pose a problem. Not that it's unattractive, but just different in a visceral, ativistic sort of way. But the hat (brim low over the eyes) should camouflage that.

And so, Mister Old Bones was set. They gave him one hundred dollars in cash. He knew how to read numbers. Annie taught him. And they told him to stick to taxis. If anyone questioned his accent, he's to say it's Estonian. Come on, who's gonna know what an Estonian accent sounds like anyway? 

Initially, everything went well. He bought lip balm and a box of tampons in an all-night CVS. At first he thought the girl behind the counter might be one of his own kind. But when he tried to manipulate her breast to see if it conformed to the norms of his tribe, she slapped him away and shouted something he couldn't understand. True, there were some isolated bands sharing his home territory in Siberia, but he wanted to find out if any lived  outside the area too. And breast manipulation was a friendly form of greeting among his people. Look, he wasn't offended when 'cave' ladies manipulated his scrotum. Good manners are good manners. So he cursed the CVS girl in his Mother Tongue, as he stormed out into the night.

After a while walking proved tedious, so he automatically fell into the lemur-like, leaping gallop traditionally found among his people. Some tired folks heading home from night work huddled together inside a bus shelter when he went by. Yet a bike cop reading porn at a newsstand didn't say a word. A whore yelled - Yo, where you gone, shit-for-brains cute stuff? But he didn't understand such colorful colloquialisms, so he just kept on bouncin' and bouncin'. A few hundred heartbeats later he carefully examined some sleeping, homeless guys under the arcade of a post modern office tower, but they were deep into a muscatel induced double feature, so they slept right through it. Needless to say, they did not sport the requisite physical traits.

Now a warm breeze blew up from the south right about three o'clock. That's when he lost the jersey. Some old guy in a Chevy Caprice slowed down to pick him up, but the car smelled funny...kind of like the caribou did come rutting time, so he waved him off. Five minutes later the guy circled back. Mister Old Bones still wasn't interested, but he gave the sloppy bastard two Andrew Hamiltons as kind of a goodwill gesture. Guy mumbles some curse at him, but ,ten minutes later, was seen tucking into a twenty piece box of Chicken McNuggets at an all night Mickey D's. I guess he satisfied his hunger in a somewhat different way.

A little bit later it got even hotter. That's when the pants came off. Never did put on them tightie-whities, so at least they weren't a loss. And off he goes, gallopin' down the street. He did know that it wasn't permissible to go running around all naked in this culture. That's why he kept the baseball cap, the socks and the 'Chuckies.' Did have to lose 'em so he could pull off the jeans, but put 'em back right after, 'cause he hated gallivanting 'round the city barefoot and all. Some people exiting an after hours club in Queen Village cheered and whistled as he flew by. He liked them. They were friendly.

And a different whore from the one he saw before did all kinds a neighborly things to his not-quite-private parts. He gave her four Andrew Hamiltons. That seemed to be the going rate. And  then he reciprocated with friendly ministrations of his own. When it was over, he was sure she was Neanderthal. But she didn't exactly know what she was, though she thought her father might a been part Cherokee.

Two hours later, he comes back to the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau complex under the Navy Yard with a big smile on his face and a Donald Duck tattoo on his ass. Guy at the parlor said he wasn't big on pants neither. But vampire skin can't hold no tattoo, so come sundown he was back to being all regular and bare assed again.

Little Annie said the tampons made good bolsters on the beds in her Barbie's Dream House and she was glad to get 'em. They figured he must a carried the box under his hat. But the tube of lip balm was long gone.

Did he feed? Well, he did take a little bit off the whore and from one a the sleepin' homeless guys. But that's all. For except in matters of dress (or undress), Mister Old Bones was fastidious and discreet in every way. And although no mostly Neanderthal specimens were found that night, the outing was an exceedingly favorable one just the same.


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MISTER OLD BONES IS LONELY

He hails from a land of deep forests. Winter lasts eight months. And stories live for millennia. Blood meals were few and far between. Most times he lived with his benefactors, holed up deep within ancient, maze-like caves, painting totems and spirits to help with the hunt. 

Some called him 'The Weaver.' It was his job to bind them all together. They's sit in a circle staring at the fire,  dazed from imbibing arcane distillations made from creeping, microscopic lifeforms more than plant and not quite animal. Mold, I think you call them, or maybe fungi. 

He'd silently go 'round taking little drinks from each of the congregants, then return to his place and regale them with passionate tales from the old days..... battles with giants..... secrets from bees...... tear drops from the stars. 

Then, perhaps twelve hundred heartbeats later, he'd rise  up and return 'round the circle, giving each soul present a tiny drink, a rich warm gift from his own veins. In that way they were bound up within the bonds of life-never-ending...... They had a prayer--- May He Who made the universe, make us forever one..... And they covered him with flowers, fresh in summer, dried in winter, as he slept.

The strange man, the 'Neanderthal' vampire shaman who came back with Papa, remembered these things, as he sat with the others watching television. What could Chelsea Handler say to him, or even Charlie Rose for that matter. 

Doctor Franklin knew he was restless. And when the Jersey Devil let loose with his piercing wail from the secured menagerie,  the ancient soul would bow his head and cry. Occasionally he'd spend nights with the polar bears, cavorting with them, as they swirled and dove through the artificial pools. The night crew knew what he was. But they also knew Doctor Franklin and Tomas, so the zoo was a very welcoming place.

They tried giving him blood cajoled from various researchers and technicians, but he said it made him sick. He said it tasted from processed cheese and artificial sweetener. Granted, he did not use those words. But they understood his meaning just the same. 

Conrad, also a man of faith in his own right, commiserated with him. They sat in the corner playing game after game of Master Mind, only Mister Old Bones always won. He always broke the code and by the second row his colored pegs were invariably  in the correct positions. Wandering through the thoughts of others came natural to him, as it did to all Neanderthals, mortal or vampire.

He wants to go out. Oh, they've had him out before and not just to the zoo. But he wants to feed..... And he wants to look for others of his kind. 

Now scientists claim we have anywhere from three to five percent Neanderthal DNA mixed in among all that Cro Magnon stuff. But it is possible, after centuries of random breeding, that some people have more..... much more. And Mister Old Bones wants to find them.

Imagine.... two strains of humanity living side by side. Sometimes even in the same house. What if word got out? What if people began to realize this? What would it do to society?

It's warm tonight, very warm. And the strange man from the forests of Siberia wants to take the air. Doctor Franklin says he'll let him, if he agrees to swallow a capsule-like tracking devise that should harmlessly exit his body by sunrise. Only problem is vampires never crap. The blood circulates and circulates through each and every bit of tissue til it's all used up. And then it's gone. Perhaps a chip beneath the skin would function just the same?

Ah, what 'we' do for science.

Come back when next the night bird sings again and find out what happens when Mister Old Bones steps out.

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THE VAMPIRE AND THE BATTERED WIFE

Tomas drifted through the basement/family room. The two, young children were sleeping, bathed in the flickering light from a forty six inch flat screen TV. Larry Parks, as Al Jolson, silently mouthed the words to 'Mammy.' One of the kids must have pressed the mute button. But Tomas watched for a moment. He remembered the real Al Jolson... He remembered a lot of things. Then he turned off the television and covered them with some knit 'throws' folded over a worn reclining chair in the corner.

He could have sublimated up to the bedroom, but he didn't. He softly walked up the stairs, into the kitchen. Someone obviously tried to jazz it up a bit...new pulls on the freshly painted cabinets..... some twelve by eighteen inch marble cutting boards lined up along the counter, trying to look like something they were not. But the broken plates were still on the floor. He picked them up and put them in the trash, before continuing into the unfurnished dining room (the picnic table from outside filled in at Christmas time.), through the small, plain living room and up to where she was.

The room was dark. He stepped inside, smelling the pain and disappointment oozing from the walls. She lay upon the bed, silent as the night and curled up like a ball. Was she sleeping? Not really...just drifting through a place far better than reality. He sat down on the bed. She made no sound. Perhaps it was the drugs? He brushed her hair. She sighed, then whispered - Who are you?........ He said - I don't really know, but I am here to help you.....Then he gently, but firmly took hold of her body, rolled her on her back. He kissed her forehead. She whimpered. He kissed her neck, down low, right by the collar bone. She relaxed, stretching out to her full length....... Are you like an incubus?- she slurred. I saw them on the History Channel...... Then she trembled and yawned. He rubbed her belly. She moaned...... Well, are you?......... A little, I suppose, but just a little - he said....... She arched her back. He pushed the blood stained blankets to the floor....... She quietly said - Excuse the mess. But my husband made me bleed...... Then she was silent, remembering what had happened. A few heartbeats later, she cried. Tomas knelt down over her and kissed away the blood, gently cleansing her with his practiced tongue. She breathed deeply, but did not say a word. And when it was over, she slept. He sat there, stroking her thighs and waiting for the wounds to disappear. A vampire's blood can do magical things...

Just before dawn, he went into the bathroom, found a tube of lipstick and wrote a phone number on the mirror. Above it he scrawled - Call this for help. Then he sublimated up through the skylight and made his way back to Franklin's lair beneath the Navy Yard.

That morning, she called. A man picked up. She said - What happened last night?....... The man, an old and trusted 'familiar,' a lawyer by trade, told her she'd been saved. Later that afternoon, they met  over coffee at a Starbucks in Center City, where he presented her with a fresh, crisp cashier's check made out for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars , along with a few other necessary documents. Vampires tend to be very well fixed, you know. She studied it for the longest while, then said - I'd better go, now before the trains (subways) get crowed. But he walked her to the street and put her in a cab. 

That evening, she packed a few things, pictures mostly, some much loved baby clothes, took the kids and drove away, to a safe, new future with a different name.

The deed was done. The wife beater was gone and for the next month at least, Tomas was fed.

But the once-battered-wife always remembered that night and she thought about him often...

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DINNER AFTER MIDNIGHT....the Vampire Tomas/Jonathon comes to dine.

Under certain conditions, when the barometric pressure, temperature and humidity are just right, vampires produce a momentary, fiery trail, as they plummet toward the ground. some say it's rather like a meteor.

The body of the life-eater in question is not harmed in any way, for the actual physicality of the supernatural being lies beyond the nuts and bolts of our quantum universe. It is the air surrounding the vampire that burns. Some avoid sublimating when the atmosphere is like that to prevent being seen. But it was late. Tomas was hungry. There'd been a vision. He had no choice. Fortunately, in this predominately working class district, few souls were about. Most snored under covers, gathering strength for tomorrows labors. A patrol car rolled by from time to time, but the cops rarely looked up. They studied the cars parked in tiny driveways (parking pads, really) fronting each narrow row house, searching for slashed tires. A 'rubber-ripper' was abroad in the land and he was their first priority.

Tomas materialized just as he hit the ground...In this case, a small patch of grass, bordered by a six foot tall, wooden 'privacy' fence. Such were the backyards in this highly conformist neighborhood.

There was a man there snoring away on a flimsy, folding, chaise lounge, deep in the midst of a clammy, beer-sleep. He was 'the husband.' He was the wife beater. He was the quarry. Tomas bent over him. He studied the man's features..... how coarse..... how basic. Then he shot out his tongue and ever so slightly licked the tip of the man's nose. The sleeper stirred. He did it again. The sleeper moaned, attempting to turn over, but the chair was too narrow. Tomas took hold of the aluminum arms and shook it. More snoring. He shook it again. The man opened his eyes. Tomas grinned.... a practiced, stylized grin meant to scare and beguile. His fangs, rather small, well-formed and discreet, reflected the starlight like mirrors. The wife beater gasped, instinctively raising an arm in defense. But before he could emit even the slightest noise, Tomas cracked off the hand and jammed it down his throat. There was some thrashing about...a few moans... but thank God for the din of cheap, window air conditioners. Then, before the man could choke on his own blood... and perhaps an errant shard of wrist bone, Tomas tore into his belly, just below the diaphragm, buried his head in the gore and manically ate his way up to the racing heart. That's where the blood was richest..... thick, warm and soupy...... A delicacy among night-folk. And he drank til the man was almost dead. Then he ripped off his pants for one final mutilation before the deed was done. True, the blood down there had an ammonia taste, but he was bound to do it. The man must suffer. And from the looks of things, he did...... torn asunder from crotch to sternum. His swollen fingers waved forth from his mouth. Though an apple would have been more appropriate.

A moment later, Tomas stood back and watched, as the ruined body spontaneously ignited with a cold, blue flame. First a lick here...a lick there... a dancing tendril, then whoosh..... In three minutes it was over and even the bones were gone. Some night birds flew down to feast upon the scraps.

The vampire softly stroked their delicate, feathered forms. Then he sublimated through the steel back door ($199.00 at Home Depot) and went upstairs to 'comfort' the wife...

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CHANNELING ZORRO or EL CID or EL KABONG ....... The Vampirino Known as Tomas (and also Jonathon) Steps Out

Annie liked to watch him get dressed. He didn't let her see any of the private nasty stuff...although she wanted too. I don't think he's ever even showered with Sarah. Well, maybe once or twice, but that's it.  Does that kind a crap with them mole-people girls, not with his consort. You see, vampire infidelity don't count if you do it with mortals. 'Cause like in eighty or a hundred years or so they ain't gonna be nothing but chunky worm jelly. So who gonna know the difference?


Tonight he fixin' hisself to go 'cull' some bastid. That 'el mundo vampirino' talk for killin' some low life what gotta be killed. Tomas  got a ritual he do. First he shower off real good. Plain Ivory soap, just plain Ivory soap. Maybe 'cause it 99 44/100 % pure.... jus' like him. You know he do have his bad side. 


He up to the end a the ritual now. Got on his underwear and everything, jus' not his clothes. Annie like the way he fix his hair. Know what he use? Know what he like?...... Plain old Fruit of the Earth Aloe Vera gel. There, they ought a send me a case for that. 'Cept I do not know how they could transport such a shipment to my part a the universe. Oh, he do not use a lot, jus' a little bit. You know he so subtle and all. Rub it in his hands and rough it all up in his long, loose, curly, raven locks. Then he run his fingers through it til he got it lookin' like he want. 


Puts on a black tee shirt. I think it got some 'lastic in it, 'cause it fit real good. Next come the black jeans. He get them from Nordstroms. That where they come from. Underwear come from Target. Vampires got lots a money, but they ain't dumb. Impulsive sometimes, but not dumb. You mus' a heard 'bout them special, black, leather bootkins by now. They a legend 'round the vampire way. Fit real snug, over thick and equally dark woolen socks. He got a shoemaker 'familiar' fix 'em up with these hard to find metal taps. When he scrape his foot jus' right they throw off a fine spray a itty-bitty yellow sparks. That his favorite part.


Annie say she want shoes like that. But he tell her every vampire gotta find his own 'dentification mark. And she already got that bitin'-off-toe thing down pat. She say that don't count 'cause it ain't sexy. He say a eighteen month old vampirina what only spent 'bout seven year as a human bean ain't got no right  to talk that way. You know he was raised in an Orthodox, Spanish, Sephardic family.


Doctor Franklin say he gonna have somebody drive him up to where his dinner live. But Tomas don't want no ride. Say he gonna sublimate up into the dark, night sky and go WHOOSH, right through all them bitty particles a air and pulverized city shit til he get to where the bastid is. He like flyin' 'round like that. Some vampirinos ain't so good at sublimatin', but he is. 


So he go take his leave a Sarah, Papa (who mostly jus' sit there like he a wax candle or somethin') and Conrad. Baylah fixin' a go out too. But vampires real private 'bout feedin' and all. She do her thing and he do his. He do lock the door to his quarters so Annie don't mess with stuff. She already got a silver bracelet he like. You know the type..... big, heavy, shiny links. It come from a kiosk at some mall, but he like it jus' the same. Let her have it. Edith gonna get him a better one.


Then he walks out the room. Nobody says much. They all watchin' a showin' a WISE GUYS on TV. Ray Liota got the same bracelet. Guys from the bureau buzz him through. Four minute later he walkin' down a narrow 'service' street in the middle of some industrial installations they got there. Navy Yard got a lot a those. One make Barbie dolls (or at least they look jus' like Barbie dolls). Next door some guy make cartridges for fancy, little machine guns. If I still had my meat and bones, man would I like me one a them. 


Ain't many guards around. Lots a cameras though. Laser trip lines too. That how they do it. Finally, when it feel right to him, he look up, raise his hands to the sky and take off. Soon his body start gettin' all 'lectrified, like he made outta whole lot a microscopic Christmas lights. Then he go WHOOSH and disappear. But he not a permanent disembodied spirit like me (I Mister-Never-You-Mind, 'less you did not know). He jus' temorarily that way, til he come down.... right by the front steps to a neat, little row house up there near The Franklin Mills. Hell, they got Franklin comin' out the wa-zoo in this town.


Come back tomorrow and I tell you how he eat him.
He got a special ritual for that too. Oh, I know you seen some stuff..... but you ain't never seen this.


Wait'll you see what the wife do. She gone get herself all 'lectrified too. She gone get herself juiced up real good...... And you know what?.......She gonna like it a whole lot......... 'Cause like I jus' told you --- it ain't really cheatin' with a bone-a-fide human bean.


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