Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Recol...

This  how that wild west, 'DALLAS' on Mars tale a The Texaco Family all began..Y'all ain't read it back then (1/18/12) but could be you'll eye it up now... Knowin' how folks does things on Earth... how you think it gonna be out there?... Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Recol...: Little David (though everyone called him 'Davey', or 'Prince') squinted up at the two sky-ponies tracin' lazy circles above the Cinnabar Hil...

HOW THE ELFERINOS AND ELFERINAS GET ALONG

Representatives of a certain rare breed want to talk to you. Celeste has something to say. Usually Marianne speaks for the elferino-vampirinos , or occasionally Roland, but the second pubescent vampirina has something to share. 

So come with us to their hidden abode down inside the long buried, old Gimbels subway store. It's dusty and obscured along a maze-like pathway branching off from the Eigth Street station on the Market Street line. The guy who plays sad songs on the piccolo knows the way. He sees them enter in the wee hours of the morning. But they're his friends, always leaving fifty dollar bills or Baum Mercier watches in his money pot. No one ever robs him, 'cause he's swathed in elfin magic. The foursome here in Philadelphia can do that. Vampire enchantment rests differently on each and every soul. Young specimens...the ones known as vampirino-elferinos possess a certain facile grace. Spell-touching comes easy  to them. And although Marianne hogs the spotlight, Celeste is the most talented of all. 

Shhhh... She approaches, climbing out from the ruins of Santa's Workshop, circa 1974. The throne's a little beat up, but you can still tell what it is. They light the place with a plethora of mini, L.C.D. flashlights. Must be a few dozen of them scattered 'round here. Nice effect, don't you think?

She has the requisite pointed ears and long tapering fingers. eyes are a bit large and almond shaped too. Regulars know it comes from the hormones. They continue stimulating growth even after vampiric transformation occurs. Not forever, but for a time, thus the elfin mien. 

And she can fly too. They all can. Flit about like regular little Peter Pans. Knit caps pulled low. Wispy hair framing delicate faces.  Angels with needle-like, baby fangs. Yet elferinos rarely kill for a meal. Quick, little drinks, taken on the fly, like mosquitos do for them. Some donors don't even know. Drunken, late night wanderers furnish a lot of what they need. Familiars willingly make up the rest in return for handfuls of banknotes and dear, little baubles. Pick-pockets, you know. And very good at it.

Please, be quiet. The Lady Celeste speaks ---

Peace to you, oh best beloveds. I need your help to accomplish certain things. A pestilence descends upon the flesh-eaters (humans) a new and brazen, cunning influenza. How hellish the virus and prions can be. Even we're not privy to their motivation. But they plan to eat you. Tiny, tiny teeth will tear away precious bits of life. Often they leave before the feast is done. But once in a while they don't and then the victim dies. Yet we can confront them, you and I. 

Approach me in the shadows when you see me. You know my face. Don't be bashful. Take the vials and share them with those most sorely afflicted. A drop of warm, red magic does the trick. Vanquish Sir Death and beat him low. A tiny kiss of elfin blood upon the lips... the breath of hope and new beginnings. 

They say my blood is strongest and quite suited for the task. Take it to the light, to places I can't go. Be my blessed minions and set this old world right. 

For there are those in Philadelphia with knowledge. There are those with much to teach.  Keep them by the rostrum and save them from the grave. 

What you hear is true....... We only pretend this is fiction.

Yet night-folk need friends and they are you. So step up to the task. 

I go now to bathe in the night. Consider what I say. Touch the magic and do not shrink away.
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If you think t'was but a dream, look for me in moonlight. Say my name and I'll be there... Celeste, of the silver eyes....
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and that's it. she disappears. come, I'll guide you out.... some of you feel the truth. you know and you are part of it... For 'Puck' is a friend now. And you are his mate too.

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please hit the magic SHARE BAR (it helps our story live). grace us with a COMMENT and leave a link so we may know you. adieu. ...Oh, and one more thing, for a taste of another breed of dashing, cynical VAMPIRE visit http://caballoblue.com and spend some time with the dashing ALEXIOS. Some of our crew read about him all the time. Sarah wants to arrange a meeting. Tomas is more private and reticent about such things, yet even he is intrigued...

TWINAS LATINAS Halloween FUN : An All Hallow's Eve Tale

TWINAS LATINAS Halloween FUN : An All Hallow's Eve Tale: by Billy Kravitz Who am I? I'm just an old 'Piney' and we hear a lot a strange tales in the Pines . . . The ' Pines ' were always th...(an atmospheric story about a young woman, an old shot-gun-shack and fate... Que Sera, Sera..... Say hello to la Santa Muerte).......Happy Halloween.

VAMPIRINOS GATHER 'ROUND

It's surprising how quickly things return to normal. Edith took her to the exterminator's for fresh-killed roaches. You know how much she loves to use them in her little diaramas? And Annie was quieter than usual. When she had to throw up ice cream, she did it carefully over the sink. 

Sarah was very pleased to see the 'human' side of her very special, little girl. Conrad and Leo went back to their nonsense. Now they're designing video games. Some kid from Drexel University helps them. He don't know they're vampires. He just thinks they're weird. Basically, what's the difference? 

Baylah went back to her snug, cozy jewel box of a place atop the piano bar. She might be at the shore now, for all I know. That's her business. Misses her mortal boyfriend. That's what I'm told.  Tomas bought a puppy. He got it for Annie. So you know Edith's gonna be the one taking care of it. It's a real cute, little Yorkie. Tomas named him after some kid he knew back in Old Al Andaluz (Andalucia). They used to  ride together. Scrappy little boy, just like the big-eyed little puppy. So he named him Avi, which is short for Abraham. Hope the thousand year old spirit of that Andalucian kid likes it.

Oh! before I forget. Mister Old Bones is still with us. He wanders. Sometimes he stays with Doctor Franklin and the technicians at the 'Bureau.' They experiment on him. Pretty hard to 'kill' him, since he's a vampire, so he don't mind. Besides, Neanderthals are in right now, especially since they've determined that every modern human has up to four percent Neanderthal DNA. You see, they never went extinct. We have met the Neanderthals and they are us. Actually, Mister Old Bones would really prefer Neanderthal victims. He'd find one every once in a while running around in the forests of Siberia. Yeah, they were rare, but they popped up from time to time. Doctor Franklin can't get him any, so they feed him big-boned, boxy, coarse faced bastards. Mister Old Bones knows the difference. But he makes do. Tomas is still deciding whether to take the stone age specimen to 'Revels.' It's not clear if they had anything like that back in his day. Who knows? Perhaps his very unusual physicality will guarantee social success. 

Even Blackie and Minnie came by. They rarely show up here. That's just how they are. Not 'lone wolves' exactly, but veering in that direction. Minnie brought her (Annie, I mean) some Bonnie-Bell makeup. Blackie gave her some tabloid magazines. She can't read all the words, but Edith or Sarah read them to her before she goes to sleep. Annie loves hearing stories about the Kardashian girls and their illustrious asses. That makes her laugh.  And she says she misses her little mortal friend, the one whose mother fed her shitty pizza. I forget where they're living now. Maybe still in Chestnut Hill. Who knows?

I haven't mentioned Papa yet. He's here, or 'near,' but we don't see him, not in the flesh. Tomas says he hovers over us. At least for now he's interested. The woman who fed her kid shitty pizza used to really love him. You know he looks like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere. And sometimes he plays it up. Used to 'mush up' with the shitty pizza woman all the time. Maybe we ought to find her? Might induce him to materialize.

Edith  got the place looking real nice. Hardwoods shine. Area rugs all freshly vacuumed. Doo-dads all dusted. You know, how a Society Hill, red brick, townhouse residence should look. Little tiny back yard got mum plants. Even got a little Japanese looking tree too.

They ain't due to feed for a few weeks. Sarah still makes her rounds with the little blood vials to like hospitals, street folks and poor people. They love her. Think she's a guardian angel. Tomas does it too, but he don't make a big thing out of it. 

I think tomorrow night most of them are going to King of Prussia. That's a suburban town. You know, where the huge mall is. Gotta buy clothes for 'The Revels.' If you do not know what I am talking about, scroll down two or three posts. You'll see.

Little Avi is sooo cute. Probably gonna buy him some doggy-duds and toys and stuff too.

It's real quiet around here now. Edith is still awake. She's sitting in the kitchen hunched over a copy of WeirdNJ, that's her most favorite magazine. Like a gossip book for her folk, for The Pineys. But if you want to know the truth, they all read it around here. Jersey full of weird stuff. Vampires love that. Go look. Go look on Twitter. Go find @weirdNJ. You'll see. And if you want to know who you've been talking to, it's me, the ghost kid from the cellar. I like all that weird stuff too..... if you want to know the truth.... All right, all right. I know I say that a lot. But I'm dead, OK? So cut me some slack.

Nitey-nite.

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B.E. Scully: Animal Undertaking

B.E. Scully: Animal Undertaking: From the first mysterious beginnings of life on our planet to the timeless repetitions of death and rebirth, the natural cycles of decay hav...psst! come look at this. It's a good one. Just right for chill nights under clear, OCTOBER skies... (and then wander 'round all we got on RSS at http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com ...)

LET THE VAMPIRINO REVELS BEGIN!

Once every twelve years 'El Mundo Vampirido' celebrates. I think the interval has something to do with The Zodiac. Perhaps Tomas will enlighten us, if he feels so inclined. True, the upcoming festivities conflicts with his ancestral faith, as it does with the beliefs of many night-folk. But a good party is a good party. Now, at this time, many Philadelphia life-eaters are freshly made. Sarah, Annie, Conrad, Leo... they're all new. None were vampirino twelve years ago, so attending the upcoming assembly will be very impressive. 

Celebrations are held world wide. Italy's Lake Region positively crackles with merriment and conspicuous consumption. Villas let for unbelievable sums. And I hear a coterie of elferino-vampirino from Los Angeles are bargaining for George Clooney's place, but nothing is definite yet.

Most food comes in from the former Soviet Union. They empty out the prisons. Some say the mental hospitals too. A few chaste night-folk eschew such indulgence, but most crave release. After all, how much harm can it cause? One week (well, ten days, actually) out of six hundred and twenty four? Please.

Tomas looks forward to reconnecting with old friends. There's his old crowd from Charles the Second's time. And assorted fanged, Euro types from all over. Masters of The Dance rehearse ancient routines. The gavote, the tarantella, assorted chardash, stately, Roman promenades, you'll see them all. 

Oh, and the entertainment they bring in! Elvis played there twice. Come on, you did not think he was dead, did you? Noel Coward tickles the ivories. Bessie Smith belts out the blues. And Glen Miller's still got it. Look, there are others I could name, but enough enemies, I got. So you're just gonna have to wait.

Novices come into the fold then too. Attractive wannabes with potential. Maybe they're running from something or someone. Maybe they're sick. Or maybe they're just bored and ready for something new. They pay a lot of money too, sometimes more than a hundred million dollars US. If funds present a problem, well heeled members kick in. Got to keep the party going, if you know what I mean. 

And then another thing.... something strange happens near the end of the revels. The 'Surrendering.' Certain vampires volunteer to go into the light. They even have a prayer ---- Look for me in the knowing eyes of a child. I have been among the dead too long...... Many night-folk believe in reincarnation, you know. Some bring a 'soul bearer,' a young fertile female (human, of course) ceremoniously impregnated at the instant of their immolation and hopefully their future mommy.

Other 'exotics' turn up too. there's always a few witches, disembodied spirits, lucid wanderers (I feel so sorry for them) and the like. Merfolk show up too. some palaces have heated, indoor pools (saltwater, naturally). 

There's supposed to be old films, real grainy stuff from the silent days, showing a Revel from the nineteen twenties. Some of the bastards you'll see here are in it. But I don't know where it is, or who has a copy. A few 'society' vampirina doyennes know, but they like to keep it within their own, little clique. 

We couldn't give you a regular episode tonight. Annie's still settling in. The one they call 'Papa' is hovering around. Edith is washing and cooking. You know she eats. wilkravitz eats. Annie tastes stuff. She throws up later, but she eats it. Baylah's in the den mixing drinks. Alcohol they can tolerate. That they love, actually.

Look, if you know your way around  the internet, see which top drawer, carriage trade hotels fill up in a few weeks. You'll figure out where it is. See who's renting high end properties. It's not hard to discover that. 

But without a connection, don't even think of crashing, unless you want a spot on the buffet table.

Certain pivotal mortals DO show up, however. They have a 'think tank.' Pow-wow with night-folk and everything. Who better to confer with? Vampires know it all, right?

You better say 'right.'

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EMBALMED ALIVE

A few weeks ago, a careless hunter killed a little Piney girl. He shot her with steel tipped arrows. Thought she was possessed, or something, 'cause he saw her levitatin' in the moonlight. Careless hunter don't know much 'bout Piney ways.

Took a little bit, but they ketched him and threw him down a naturally formed rocky tunnel (a little, narrow, dried up ancient lava chute, actually) to a dark, noxious quagmire under where the Talk-To-God Man lives.

Oh, he scream a lot at the beginning. Try to get out, but he can't. Hole open up high in the wall a the chamber where he is. No way he gonna get to it. So he cry and he pray and he scream. 

Ain't no where to lay but the mud. Whole place full a mud. Now most time it warm in there. Think they got a little hot spring runnin' 'round down below. But every so often things change. Earth must shift and the spring jus' run off somewheres else. Mud gettin' clammy now. Hunter guy gettin colder. 

Oh, he not goin' hungry. Mud bugs takes care a that. They little bit like rolly-poly... little bit like shrimp and little bit like somethin' else... bed bug, I think. But he is startin' to shiver some. 

Lays there all balled up just like a unborn baby, 'cept tighter, like a cannon ball. Talk-To-God Man unstuff the hole when he want a hear him... when he wanna know if he still breathin'. He throw incense down. Say some prayer, or jus' listen. Talk-To-God Man like a do that late at night, 'specially when the ghosts is busy... 'specially when he get lonely. He say - You know I can't haul you out. Ain't no way to do it. You know I can't warm it up none. Ain't no way a do that either. Talk-To-God Man can smell the cold clamminess. 

Careless hunter guy listen. He float on the chill, wet crap and he listen. Don't even care if them mud-bugs crawl on him. He just lay there, eyes open and listen. Talk-To-God Man tell stories, mostly 'bout his own life, or shit what happens to other folks he knows. It is strange to think that right dead in the middle of Philadelphia, Atlantic City and New York City they got a place like this..... but they do.

It don't seem like that hunter guy gone live long. Mud too cold now. 'Sides, all that fresh water (not clean, just not briny) doin' stuff to him. It leechin' salts all outta his body. An' mud-bugs ain't to salty.

Ever see dead bastids brung up from them peat bogs? Look like somebody make a pocketbook shaped like dead hobo. All wet leather-like. All brown and shiny? Well, that what happenin' to him.

Maybe in thousand year or so folks gonna find him. They say - Hot damn! Look how good he look..... 'Cept nobody want him for no son-in-law..... They wash him 'round a little and stick him in a case... a glass case. Then they put him a dead shit zoo. I think it called a museum. Folks pays money. Folks gets  to see him. You know what they say? Everybody get famous sometime.

So if you ever poke your nose in the Pines, don't make nobody mad at you, or you might wind up famous a thousand year from now too.

I not tryin' a scare you. I jus' tellin' you how it is.

Gone be frost tonight. Gone be cold. Best wrap youself in a good blanket. Imagine what it like in the mud.....

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