I am an alien spirit. But what does the word 'spirit' mean to me? What does time mean to me? I have been like this for twelve percent of a stars age. And I speak of a star such as you have. None of those bloated, giant, red bastards, or blue-hot diamonds that burn out in fivehundred million 'years.' Feh, who needs them? I speak of the corn-rich, yellow long lived orbs. I speak of your sun. But what is it called? What is its name? Prior kingdoms labeled it many things..... Helios... Apollo.... Everlasting Light... Sunny Jim. Such aliases it has. Yet these days it's been named but once. And they called it 'Kansas.' 'Kansas,' she said is the name of the star..... 'Kansas.' That orb is over four billion of your years old. That makes me a half billion. But don't be too impressed. For we've all been here since the beginning...since 'the big bang.' Only you've been dead til you were born. I was too. But I drew breath so long ago, while your lungs are quite new. 'Lungs,'... I barely remember them. I really don't remember physicality at all. But I like my toys and you... all of you... are one of them. Tonight I will play 'soldiers.' I made them, you know. I fashioned them. Did I make the animals on your world? No, I did not do that. I came later. But I popped them apart and reconfigured a few. Pity all the centaurs died. I think there're a few in Siberia. But I'm not sure. Werewolves are my favorite. Doggie-people. I like doggies. Wonder what they're gonna evolve into say sevenhundred and fifty thousand years from now? I don't mess with them. Well, for the most part I don't. They're too cute.
Now it's time for me to disappear into the narrative... Ok, here we go...
Remus was still human. But he was ready for the change. His clothes were all discarded. And he did resemble his brother. Twins, after all. And the first one, Romulus, whispered - Will you kill me here, among all these sleeping humans? ..... for the houses of The Garden District were all about. And Remus, though much devoted to books, was impulsive. His henchman stepped out of the shadows. They were from other packs and not descended from Shimmy Kate. Wolf-folk are like that. Alliances form and shift all the time. I think he found them from an ad in the back of a comic book. Not a super hero comic book. This happened during your nineteen thirties. Well, according to one Earth calender it was. And the coming of Superman was yet to occur. So they all just stood there looking at each other. Romulus, in that confident way of his, said - Come, let us go to my place up the river. The servants know what I am. Your presence won't surprise them. Let us settle our differences there..... In his heart Romulus never thought anyone would die. Perhaps those 'foreign' werewolves might, but none of Shimmy Kate's children would. So they passed into the lupine form and ran off through the leafy shadows. How swift and silent they were.
And in the time it takes a human belly to break down figgie pudding (about ninety minutes) they were there,on the broad lawn of an old antebellum estate. I suppose one or two of the staff peeked through the curtains, but no one came out.
They just pressed their hands over their ears, hid under the covers and waited for the shrieks and howls to stop til the grass was slick with blood.
But no one saw the battle save the crows, who even managed to steal a shred or two...
Wolf meat is so sweet.
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Romulus Lupine likes to swim. He ends many nights with a dip, often in the municipal reservoir. The guards know and respect him. That's just the way it is. He has a presence. That and the fact that he only shows up after feeding gives them (the guards) a sense of security. He passes. They nod. No one says a word. Sometimes he's still in a natural state, having just morphed back from the canine form. But you can see it in him. The wolf comes out. It's in the salt and pepper hair... the deep green eyes and the easy grace. Imagine, wild canines eat it all... the skin... the bones... the pelt... the meat... and the eyes. Bones and fur are like vegetables to them. They do this not out of any gruesome practice, but because they need certain enzymes and minerals found nowhere else. But I digress.
He stands on the edge and dives in, slicing through the cool water for perhaps ten yards before surfacing to breathe, a solitary figure on the reflective surface of a huge, aqueous mirror.... and then he slowly treads water and pees.... How relaxing it must be. Some nights steam rises from the surface. Then, when he's finished, he swims some more, swirling the pungent fluid through the water. In that way he spreads his essence, marks his territory and drugs the people. Now the amount of urine any one person might actually ingest is very small. Still, in a homeopathic manner, he rules them all.
And the alien personages responsible for his existence celebrate his strength and power. Granted, maybe they didn't make him, but they set the gears in motion.
He climbs out of the artificial lake, shakes off and leaves. Sometimes he sleeps in his place up the river. Sometimes somewhere else. Werewolves aren't vampires. They can be diurnal or nocturnal. Certain lines are telepathic. Others are not.
He's wary as he passes through the city, invisible as a shadow and quiet ... oh so very quiet. Wolf-folk can do that. Stealth comes natural. His ability to detect scent is quite keen too, on par with bloodhounds.
But Remus is very well read. He knows everything, even scent masking. That's how he gets so close.... And he's not alone.
Sibling rivalry among canids can be intense. Most submissives leave. Some try other things.
And Remus is very resourceful...
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Evenings in New Orleans glow with a dark, violet light. Maybe it's caused by reflection off the water, or old Cajun spells known to generations of Louisiana 'wise women?' Them Frenchies come over with a lot a magic. Gallic grandma got hoo-doo for everything. West African grandmas got they own 'what for's.' and after a little wine and gumbo it all starts to melt together.
The werewolf brother known as Remus got his own repertoire. He smart. He read a lot. Them what run the aisles of old book shops in the quarter know, 'cause he always there. Got like an account, or something. Hardly ever talks. Don't look at nobody. Don't say nothing. Just glide in, finger them spines... see what he like and take it. Reads French, Spanish an' English. Knows how them old time vampires talk too. Comprehends two dialects a Vahmperigo. Now books in Vahmperigo are very rare, but he finds them.
Ain't got no land up the river, like his brother do. Remus more modest that way. He prefer the quiet comforts of a snug pied-a-terre on Chatelaine, a narrow street (more an alley, really) deep in the Veau Carre. It two flights up, over an oyster bar. Got like an ancient wrought iron balcony and everything. Keep a gal up there for lovin' him up and cleanin. Ain't so good at the cleanin' part. But she always got 'A' in gym, so you know she real supple an' good at that 'lovin'' part. Her name Bernice. Think she part Tejana. She ain't never seed him when he all wolf. He funny that way. Don't like nobody look at him. Shimmy Kate, his late human mama, always say he 'the crazy one.'
An' it be the true, but I do not know if he an' his brother the first Romulus an' Remus or the second one. Wolfie folk keep things close. Who know how long they live? Anything I tell you would jus' be specalation.
Some folk what get et by this one don't even know werewolf do it. See wolf. Know that. But don't know 'bout no human part, 'cause he modest that way..... 'Why they gotta know?' - he say... 'What for it change the taste a that meat?'........ Romulus, the brother, hate when he get that way, 'cause he like a scare folks. Make 'em shit they pants. That the best part for him. Sometime he jus' do that an' never eat 'em. First one he always eat. But after he get full he like the 'shit pants' part. Make 'em go home wit' a big, hot load.... Streetcar driver say - What all you got there, boy!?... Folks look. They move back. Maybe flies come in. Who knows?... But he watchin'. He watchin' an' he laughin'..... Worse when they gotta get in a car an' drive that way. Some a them cry, special if car new an' got like leather an' all.
Werewolf ain't like vampire. Werewolf more like animal an' it show, even sophisticated werewolf like Mister Remus. Oh, when he human you never know. Look like purdy college professor. Romulus hate him. Wanna kill him. But Remus wanna do the same, so that make it all right.
Right now that 'college professor' slinkin' through Necropolis Saint Germaine. It all dark an' quiet. Little marble dead folk temples all white in the moonlight. Huntin' goth kid... them what think they Morticia Addams, or like David Blaine or somethin'. Walk 'round here at night meditatin'an' doin' hoo-doos... Never seed one a their hoo-doos work, 'cept one time when a dead chicken get up an' walk away. Look jus' like puppet, bein' all broke up like that. But that the only time.
Y'all what readin' this might have magic right 'hind you head, or you back an' not ever know it. 'Cept they say you can tell when it lookin' at you.
But I jus' a disembodied spirit, so what I know?
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Some cultures are millions of years old. A few, possibly billions. What manner of existence might they manifest? Is fostering the development of lesser creatures a universal law? Let's look at our own circumstances. And we must do these things before analyzing the motives and techniques of those responsible for human lycanthropy.
Consider the arrangement of our solar system. The grand, almost star-like world we call Jupiter runs interference for us, gathering most troublesome rocks and ice bergs into its own unfathomable depths.... a cosmic bug zapper protecting the delicate Earth-side skin.
Other solar systems also have Jupiter-like worlds, but they tend to sink in toward the parent star. Our set-up is different and highly unusual.
And then there's the Moon.... a celestial 'after thought' created, if you will, as a cosmic gyroscope, a stabilizer regulating our orbit, our climate and the seasons. No other world has anything like it. Other moons (when seen with their planetary sponsors) pale in comparison. Saturn's children are mere dots. Jupiter's the same. Oh, they may be large in their own right. Some actually planet sized. Yet next to their host quite negligible.... In fact, contemporary scientists consider our set up to be more binary planet in nature.
Thus so much about out galactic vicinity seems carefully engineered.... a wax smeared petri-dish floating in space.
Were mass extinctions 'failed' experiments, or perhaps scheduled recyclings of organic components?
Why did each subsequent 'age' produce ever more complex organisms? Evolution... in it's purest form aims not for complexity but for convenience. What does nature care if we have Buicks or maracas?
Though a stardust Pygmalion might.... Did we just grow like Topsy, or are we something else?
What a piece of work is man......
And who was (is?) our Da Vinci?.... Are they always serious and earnest, or do they sometimes play games?
Romulus Lupine thinks about these things. So does the twenty eight thousand year old vampire known as 'Papa,' our younger life-eater, Jonathon and a host of other characters revealed here..... 'Vampire Wonderland' is so much more than that.... And as stated at the very beginning (lest you forget), we only pretend that it's fiction.
More about the wolfie-folk next time. Tonight we speak of deeper things.
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Y'all ain't heard from me in a while, but it's me, Mister Never-You-Mind. Lot a you know I got myself burned up in a New Orleans warehouse very many years ago. Think it was New Orleans. But I was duct tapped to a chair at the time and quite delirious with pain, so certain inaccuracies are bound to creep in.
I heard 'bout what Romulus Lupine do to that crooked judge. Yeah, big deal. Mauled by a 'dog.' Pitt Bulls do worse. That why I tell you this. Disembodied spirits get around. We drift into lotta spooky shit. Saw a lady put cat piss in her grandma's I.V. bag once. Nurse say - What you doin'???.... Lady say - Nuthin'..... Grandma go - Ack! Ack! Ack!.... Then she leave muddy turd all over the bed.
Two New York bastids got 'nother game. Call real estate bitch. It can be a man bitch, or a lady bitch. That don't mean nothin'. Say - What kind 'partment you got? .... Then they go wit' him. Ride up in elevator. Clasp hands in front a they junk. Not nobody else's hands. Just they own. Do it at night. It better then.
Bitch take 'em inside. Got like a key. Say - Marble floor, granite counter, silver metal fridge, silver metal stove, ass squirtin' toilet, all kinds a fancy stuff, yeah-yeah-yeah, rah-rah- rah.
Two bastids go - What they got out there?... Bitch say - Oh, that the balcony.... But bastids already know that. That why they want a see the place..... Real estate bitch say - Here, lemme show you.... An' they go out. It night. Sky all starry an' all. Got like a helicopter all the way up. Who know? Maybe like Donald Trump, or Anderson Cooper in it.
One a the bastids go - What that?.... Bitch say - That a church. Here, lemme show you..... Bastids go - Okay.... Then when real estate person go up to the edge an' start identifyin' things, like where Barbara Walters once threw up on the street, or Eli Wiesel's dog bit half a Zsa Zsa Gabor's ass, they pick that bitch (man or lady. it don't make no difference) right up an' toss it over.
Some a them try an' hang on. Gotta break a few fingers. Gouge a few eyes, but mos' only got a couple, so that don't take too long. They sing - Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Think about they kids. Then they fall down. Bastids like that part. Watch 'em go an' say - Wheeeee!
Take a second or two for them to go splat. Sometime, if they land funny, a arm break off, or like a leg look like it doin' a funny dance. Head get all coconutty. Sometime rib come right through the skin. Look like a marionette what got squashed an' crapped on by a elephant. But that jus' my artistic interpretation.
Them bastids still out there. Sometime they move 'round. Toss people in Philly. Drop some in Boston, maybe Baltimore. Like when that David Letterman used a bus' watermelons, 'cept these watermelons is people.
'Magine what it like when feet leave the ground. Not the real ground. Like that balcony thing, I mean. Mus' be a very surprisin' situation.
But I wouldn't know, 'cause I got all burned up.
Don't take no vampire, or werewolf to do that shit.
Human bean do pretty good all by theyself...
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We read all about vampires and werewolves and zombies and Kardashian wimmen and all, but there's lots of other monsters out there too. And the beauty part is nobody thinks they're real. The same off-Earth entities responsible for the wolfie-folk we been hawkin' here for the last few weeks made lots of other 'pot holders' too. The Sumerians kept records. Look at all them little cylinder seals they had. Get a hold of one. Roll it around in clay. You'll see. Lobster Guy is my favorite. Imagine walkin' 'round with your skin replaced by a keratin-like exoskeleton stuck onto your very flesh.... Sort of like flaying all the skin off Iron Man and Krazy-Gluing him into his suit forever. That's gotta hurt. Horse headed bastards.... They had 'em all. One ancient tampon found in a tomb was eighteen inches long. What's up with that?..... (Oh, talking 'bout weird , the guy behind me at The Acme food market tonight was clicking like a Katydid. I do not know what part of his body produced the noise, but it was very loud and threatening. I know people with store-bought heart valves go tick-tock-tick-tock, but this wasn't that. Heart valve's make noise like the alligator in Peter Pan. But this was like a wind-up monkey with cymbals. Looked like Chris Lloyd from TAXI and the intent wasn't intentional. Seemed oblivious to the noise too, like he had tinnitus and was sharing it with everybody. Bought two things... gummy bears and salted butter. Guess they gonna get sauteed. Checkout kid give him a slow 'huh-lo,' like he knows what's going on. Skinny, old lady buyin' fake fingernails and string cheese <maybe she need them daggers to pull it apart?> start laughin' like she bein' tickled. Then we all just sighed, put our heads down and let the moment pass. Supermarkets get weird after ten PM. Oh, yeah, hummus. I bought hummus...and shaving cream, but not necessarily for mixing together. Said hello to the big woman in the too skimpy wife-beater and miss-matched, oddly placed tattoos staring at the lobster tank <think she got a thing goin' with one of 'em> and left.
You know they originally offered the part of Lincoln to Liam Neeson, but he said 'no,' ... Michelle Pfeiffer said 'no,' too. Some people got no sense of adventure.
'Scuse my night-time ramblin' but them aliens did it 'cause I was about to tell you too much..... Sometimes they shove hot peppers up recalcitrant orifices of certain people while we sleep.
Now you know.....
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Now judges tend to live in manicured neighborhoods. They got hedges and pavered driveways and 'water features.' All kinds a stuff. Ain't hardly alone too. Got lady people, like wives and housekeepers. Some got girlfriends or boyfriends depending on what kind a hoo-haa they have, or what kind a hoo-haa they like a play with. So it is exceptionally hard to catch 'em alone.... even for werewolves.
You see, Romulus Lupine hated big scenes. Can't grab no victim outside the Piggly Wiggly, or snatch him up from a card game at that Veterans a Foreign Wars place where they go to drink beer an' play cards. Folks might notice if you did that. An' down here they all got guns. An', yes, wolf-folk what get they asses all shot up will die. The head drops. The eyes close and they go 'guhk' jus' like anyone else. But what's special 'bout 'em is the way they heal. It never stops. Them wolfies what look dead just vegetatin'. Ax wounds go 'way. Bullet hole close up. Chopped off head might be a little complicated, but if they hold it on right ain't no big thing..... So you bes' burn 'em up real good, if you want 'em 'dead' dead.
Our crooked judge got a nice back yard. Got like a garden in it... rose bushes... white, wrought iron tables an' all. Judge set out there late at night countin' stars and drinkin' 'Jack.' Claim he once see a meteor smash in a the Moon, but no one else see it, so who knows?
Romulus Lupine know 'bout the garden. He set there waiting. Make like he read a comic book an' all. Werewolf do like a good laugh. He come prepared, too. Got plastic bag wit' underwear, clothes an' all, for later when he done werewolfin'. Can't run through these streets all stripped down. Folks'd see. An' then he gotta kill some other guy an' a nosy neighbor...maybe a kid or two. It be a real bloodbath. Pair a jeans an' t-shirt from the Walmart stop all that.
Actual killin' part all civilized too. Judge might not never see it. Wolf slide outta the shadows, go 'round back, grab him by the neck... bite down... bite down real hard. Break like a neck bone or two, make 'em snap, so he nice an' paralyzed. It better that way, else they jump around too much. Can't scream. Can't move. Make it easy to strip off all that tasty flesh. Oh, judge gone see that part. His eyes be real wide. Mouth movin' like a fish an' all. Pink, foamy shit comin' out. Sometime werewolf lick it up. Sometime he don't. 'Pends how he feel.... After he leave, werewolf, I mean, Winston run out. He the judges little Yorkie. Make like he wanna lick his cheek. But he really want a take a bite, 'cause that dog always hungry.
Trucker see it all, wedged in where he is behind the garage. First he wanna throw up. But then he take a 'LifeSaver,' peppermint, like Romulus tell him. Take four 'LifeSavers.'
That way he enjoy the show...
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