Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY: This is what the woman with the Jolly Rancher said . She said - You were telling us that vampires have to be practical...... Marianne chuck... THE FIRES OF THE AUTO-DA-FE DRAW CLOSER. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A VAMPIRE BURNS.. But, as always, please recognize that this is not the text. To experience that, you must click on the words...'IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY... up above. And if you want to see other episodes, click on THIS .. Your COMMENTS along with your own LINKS are very welcome...

RESCUING A VAMPIRINO FROM A MEAN OLD (VERY OLD) MAN....... 4/29/13

This is how a soul, or spirit travels through space. The trip is not instantaneous, so you can pretty much ditch that 'speed of thought' crap. I suppose, where vampires, or the spirits of (living) vampires are concerned, it's rather like a sublimation..... a rapid progression of tiny, sub-atomic, charged particles. Maybe it's wrong to call them particles, for they have no mass. 'Dark matter' might be a better term.

Well, that's what 'Papa' is. He rose up through the icy crust and hovered over the surface, a quiet place, dwarfed by the immensity of Jupiter. Huge swaths of incomprehensible winds raced ' round the giant planet. I don't know how human astronauts will ever withstand it. Perhaps they'll close their eyes and turn away? Jupiter... a violent, 'baby' sun with magic toys. And Europa is the favorite..... a vast polar ice cap, sheltering a water world filled with wondrous creatures. And the 'cloud' that is 'Papa' says 'so long.' as he leaves this special reality. He ascends up into the void, climbing through the near vacuum of space one thinly spread molecule at a time. Think of them as stepping stones, or hand-holds on a climbing wall. Earth is but a tiny beacon shining in the dark. Mars is even smaller. The sun, itself, a barely discernible, burning disc..... In less than two days he'll be home, back inside his body in the townhouse far away. Space is really big.

But the mole-folk are already there. They swarm into the dusty ruins of the long buried wig shop. And then the chirping stops. Yes, they can talk like mortals do, but some are quite adept at clicks and whistles too... A cozy, private communicative technique developed through the years..... And they listen... And they think....And they plan.

Jonathon, or that part still remaining, heard them. He cannot chirp fluently, but he hears beyond the noise, picking up the 'flickers' from their brains. Aura is there... so is Silvia. In the past he bathed them both. But now, he is monogamous and Sarah is the one. 

She walks through the city, focused and powerful, a 'granddaughter' of 'Papa' herself. And her steps are silent. Vampires can do that. But a new pair of 'Chuckies,' all soft, light and comfy helps too. Occasionally a mortal respectfully points her out. They know she's a life-eater. But for the last month or two, since Jonathon's preaching from that place beneath the bank building, it's all right. The magic and the mundane are one now. And the city is a better because of it. 

The old man gets a premonition. His cells have been bathed in vampire blood, after all. And he tells the technicians who operate his urban fortress to close the gates. Nine heartbeats later, light, titanium (flavored with a lead alloy) storm shutters roll down, magnetically locking into place. And the life craving ninety four year old, partially restored, billionaire, retreats to his own lead lined room.... though it is much more commodious than Jonathon's. 

'Star light...star bright... first star I see tonight... I wish I may... I wish I might... get the wish I wish tonight'......... That's what Doctor Franklin whispered, as he threw the switch waking his Grand Armonica. And all the ether for perhaps a radius of seven miles 'round trembled with intricate chords and glissandos, changing the basic structure of certain special substances. Did the old patriot see a star then?... No... But practical philosophers can be so superstitious.

The birds around the city wake and sing, four hours before the dawn...
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VAMPIRE ALLIES BEGIN TO ASSEMBLE ......... 4/28/13

Jonathon hung suspended in a dark gray void. He occupied space, but felt nothing. Thoughts were nebulous at best. He had no name, nor was he self aware. He existed. Perhaps rocks and snow storms feel this way? 

Tomorrow they'll begin the transfer. His blood, now within the body of the old man, will come back to him. Every particle of his being will grab hold of it and his physical form will be restored. Powers will re-ignite and four hundred thousand dreams shall dance again. That which is now but a papery lantern will shine.

Such is the enchanted recipe necessary for vampiric birth. But this is not a love story, or even one of lust. A violation happens here, unless someone can stop it.

The old billionaire, known as Tobias Maxwell eats soup. Seafood Lorraine, I think it is.... a rich, velvety, shrimp and lobster bisque.  He loves the stuff. And where, before, it would dribble down his trembling chin and onto a loose, flabby paunch, now it stays inside him.... and he says - ahhhh. Even the first step of night-folk transformation has benefits. 

While a mile away, 'Papa's' body sits in the usual place. He stares at the flat screen. Some home restoration program, I think it is. Annie, his vampire descendant, colors on the floor. This is a new one..... The Kardashian Sisters Go To The Czech Republic, I believe. Kim wears a bikini and a fur coat, as she leads the singing in a lively beer hall.

And then he mumbles something. For the first time in months, 'Papa' talks. The words are not important. No one knows what he said. Edith, their Piney woman, seer, friend and housekeeper goes - It's that ugly light fixture what done it (referring to a retro, 'Memphis,' monstrosity on TV). But she's only guessing...... Annie goes - Who the hell cares, you fat, old bitch... as she colors Kim's belly a vivid green..... But Edith isn't listening. She watches 'Papa's' eyes come back to life. He sees something ..... and it's very far away.

Half a billion miles hence the 'diamonds' start to dance. Tiny iridescent lifeforms, somewhat like sea slugs, though also resembling eels, undulate through the Pan Europan Sea. And 'Papa' swims with friends. Stately ray-like beings glide toward the ice-crust roof, there to dine on hanging moss-like gardens. Bio-luminescence lights this cloistered world. Every soul doth shine. Some glow green and others blue. A few pulse red and white. ..... And the ray-king communicates with his spirit guest. He tells 'Papa' things. He tells him of home. But, in truth, 'Papa' knows too. Jonathon needs help and 'Papa' is coming.....

The call goes out on the Human Home World (also known as Earth) too. Mole-folk whisper and congregate. They stream through tunnels toward a rendezvous in the dark. Perhaps Jonathon feels it? Or, maybe, he does not. But that boy has friends. 

Sarah puts down her book. The mortal friend, named Phyllis says - What's wrong?.... But the lonely vampirina doesn't answer. She just pulls herself up out of the old wing chair and walks out of the shop. The small brass bell above the door rings as she departs.

And deep within his leaden tomb, her mate appears to hear.... Jonathon's crepe paper face smiles.
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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ESCAPADES ALONG THE WAY

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ESCAPADES ALONG THE WAY: Please excuse any errors. I am channeling this too fast. It is I, Marianne. The old gentleman is all right. I gave him a few more drops. He...If you've been following the elferina-vampirina MARIANNE, as she makes her way through the nighttime streets of Amsterdam, with The Inquisition hot on her tail, here's what happens next.... Of course you realize this is not the episode. You MUST CLICK on the ESCAPADES ALONG THE WAY phrase up above to see that. as always, should you want more of our night world, click on THIS ...thank you. COMMENTS & your own LINKS are always welcome.

WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE 'PAPA'?........ 4/27/13

Annie said he's not in there. She says his body is on like automatic pilot. It's like a house with the lamps on timers and the burglar alarm turned on. Edith says - How do you know?..... Annie (our juvenile, little bastid, vampire gal) says - Same way I know who's gonna win The Voice or who Khloe Kardashian's daddy really is. My brain just knows. OK!?.... So they sit there in the kitchen eating yogurt. Yeah, Annie's a life-eater and most mortal food makes her throw up. But she likes yogurt, especially Shop Rite store brand strawberry yogurt, even if she's gonna donate it all to the toilet ten minutes later. Every time she does, she looks down into the bowl and takes inventory. Vampires, some of them anyway, are intrigued by mortal habits. Not so much the younger ones (except for Annie), because they still remember. But older examples of the breed can look at a snotty, crumped up kleenex for hours, contemplating the zeitgeist of a sneeze.

Now let's look out of their eyes and see 'Papa' as they do. He sits in that chair...the same chair... the big one, right in front of the flat screen in the 'family' room. And he stares. Whether at the images on the television or the empty space before it is hard to say. But his eyes don't blink. Well, they do, though not very often. Annie plants herself before him. She makes faces and twists herself up and does little dances. She sticks out her tongue and says curse words, real fast, right in front of his face. Like twenty five 'f' bombs all in a row. But he don't do nothing. 

Sarah don't like when she gets like that, but she ain't here much. Stayin' at her old book shop's like a security blanket. Makes her forget how much she wants Jonathon back. Right now she's sitting in that wing chair, under a warm, little pin-up lamp, reading an old copy of THE AGE OF INNOCENCE. She likes all them old bigoted, howdy-do, white glove, social niceties. 

But Annie got it right. Papa ain't there. He floatin' around out on Europa. That like a moon what wants a be a planet. It go 'round Jupiter. That like a planet what wants a be a star.  He under the ice, Papa, I mean, wrigglin' through that cold, salty ocean wit' them fishy folk.....manta ray people, I think they is. But don't look like no people I know. That vampire partial to aliens. But you gotta remember... he been 'round for like 'leventy seven thousand years. That boy seen lot a aliens...and (whispers) I think he play 'gidgie' wit' 'em. heh heh heh....

Still, he thinkin'..... It just move through his mind like maggot through a rice sack.....Heh, heh, heh..Edith all angry now. She watchin' late night re-run a Hoda/Kathy or whatever they call it. And she don't like when that dumb weather girl come on at two forty five, tellin' folks how warm it gonna get. Dumb girl always talk 'bout New York, Boston and D.C., but don't never say Philly. Edith go - Don't that orange hair bitch know Philadelphia bigger than Washington and Boston put together? Don't she know we got more fancy eatin' places and theaters than them two either?!.... Then she say she never gone watch that girl, or buy what they sellin' on them station breaks. Annie say - You want me to go to New York City and bite her up real bad? But Edith make like she don't hear and mess wit' crapped up plates in a sink.

While all this goin' on, mole-folks havin' a pow-wow. They heard something (see last night's episode). They got suspicions. Sound travels real good underground. 

That why dead folks know all the best secrets. 

This be Mister Never You Mind... But all my good friends know that. 

Right now, TV got Michael Buble singin' - Fairy tales can come true. It could happen to you....... Boy, is he ever right..... Nightmares too.

Heh heh heh heh heh....
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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES: An hour or so before dawn the barrel maker's boy rapped on the trap door..... What? - said the dominee...... You see, vampires are not ...If you read yesterday's 'Marianne' arc, here's what happened next. VAMPIRE ADVENTURES IN THE NARROW STREETS OF OLD AMSTERDAM.... The 'elferina' talks... BUT as always, this is not the post. You must click on 'MARIANNE IN BRITCHES' up above for that..... COMMENTS & LINKS ALWAYS WELCOME. More on the JONATHON IMPRISONED arc later.

YOU'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT SOME FOLK KNOW.... 4/26/13

The old man sat there and stared into the mirror watching the changes take place. Was he a vampire? Hardly... just a blood thief. But a very good one. And he smiled at the partial restoration of his jawline plus the new found suppleness of his skin. Yet this was just the beginning. The soft, baggy paunch was still there. And his liver spotted pate continued to resemble nothing so much as a large, speckled dinosaur egg in a sparse, wispy nest. But subsequent measures will take care of that.

He clapped his big, loose, flipper-like hands so the two Jamaicans would know he was ready to be tucked in. The women put down their Gator Aide, climbed off the sofa and hoisted him up from his chair and over onto the bed. Then they carefully powdered him like a baby (mustn't get too much on the sheets), while they rapidly spoke to each other in an island patois he did not understand. But Maxwell didn't care. In fact he hardly noticed. The powdering was the thing. Then they gave him a little tickle (He liked that part) snapped open a fresh, clean sheet and watched it float down to his body, before layering on two soft, cashmere blankets and tucking him in like a little papoose. In two to four hours they'd do it all again, since he always peed the bed. Lucky the linen closet was immense. New mattresses were delivered on Tuesdays and Fridays. The staff, after hopefully adequate sanitizing, took the old ones home. It's good to be rich. 

Jonathon, on the other hand, trembled in the corner of his cold, leaden cell. The long, skewer-like needles pulled back into the rough, metal surface. Blood-letting was over... for now. In a night or two he'd get it back. Then they'd steal it again and repeat the whole thing. Vampire crafting takes time.  How fortunate he couldn't see his cadaverous body. If you've ever seen statues of The Emaciated Buddha, you know. The dazed vampirino simply hugged his knees, rocked from side to side and groaned, sealed in a darkness as bleak as death.

Now out in the wide world some things had changed, while others had not. The streets were still safe. Dedicated vampire 'Jonathonites' saw to that. And most of the homeless were in hotels, bathed and dressed and fed. Vampire coffers are deep, you know. Sarah spent time at her old book shop. She avoided customers, hiding in the back and leafing through old classic novels. But when they left, she quietly came out and looked at the cozy nest that once was hers. The present owner, Phyllis, obviously knew she was a vampire. Night-folk were everywhere now. But they never spoke about that, preferring to spend the nighttime sipping coffee. Sarah sat snug in an old wing chair bought at a tag sale in her mortal days. Phyllis nested behind a big antique desk that served as a counter. Sarah thought about Jonathon and how they met, one late autumn night in the shop. She still felt him. So did Edith. But they hadn't found it yet. At times she cried. Phyllis didn't know what to do for vampire tears. Basically, she just held out a box of tissues and buried her face in a book.... Two friends in a warm, cozy shop, lit by small, silk shaded, pin-up lamps spread here and there among the tiny maze. 

But there was another world far below the streets. And the mole-folk know everything. They sneak through deepest tunnels and scurry through long forgotten cellars, collecting dust and secrets on their way. Sometimes they hear things. Water pipes conduct sound very well. And the current Silvia and Aura (Philadelphia mole-folk always have a Sylvia and Aura) picked up a bit of something in the dark and moldy ruins of a nineteenth century wig shop. Women's voices. Two of them. Down in a basement locker room. Changing clothes.... preparing to go off shift. Strange talk... Strange words, muffled by some dirt and floorboards up above their heads. If  people ever knew what lay beneath their sculleries, they'd never go to sleep. 

But Aura did know. She knew the cadence and followed the sounds. Creole talk it was... Jamaica talk, tinged with a bit of Guadaloupe. Third Step Mother sang those songs. Third Step Mother told those tales. And Aura has a spongy mind. She remembers everything.

So she hurried back to the mole-king and told him of a blood drenched old goat, secure in a warm, soft bed.

And the mole-king understood...
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