Vampire Mob Season One COMPLETE!. This how it started ...11/26/13

This how it started. And you know what it's like?... It's like RAY LIOTTA and LORRAINE BRACCO from WISE GUYS with 'teef.' .. The mother-in-law, the great MARSHA WALLACE ain't got no teef , 'cause she wear dentures and her mouth all bald when she crossed over. That way she ain't gonna scare no grandkids . Plus she gonna be able to read 'em story books when they little and when they senile. Ain't gonna make no difference. She gone bury everybody.

Vampire Mob season 1... Yo, check it out.
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HOW THE MAGIC CONTROLS VAMPIRES AND OTHER THINGS ... 11/26/13

They are 'possessed' yet do not know it, or maybe they chose not to know it. Ancient vampiric vessels go about their business on this world and other places too. They look. They watch. They meddle. 'Papa' does. He meddles all the time. So does the Lady Renate. But we so seldom see her. She made 'Papa' you know. She's even older. 

And other old ones make some mischief too. They pull the strings and thus the puppets dance. Some say they made the mer-folk, or at least perfected them. Others say the magic isn't theirs, but that it uses them. It needs their hands. It needs their feet. It needs their teeth. Think of a blacksmith who makes a tool, then uses it to create other tools. Does the power rest with that which was wrought, or with its maker?

Sarah has her own theories and opinions. Although new, she thinks the night-world is changing. She thinks it's changing very fast. Could be blood drinking was just a stage. Perhaps it isn't needed anymore? Elferinos and elferinas rarely drain to the point of death, yet they endure, indeed they triumph. And some night-folk spend centuries wandering the abysmal plain, walking through the depths feeding on whales.... no humans just whales. You think a vampire can drain a whale? Well, that's not going to happen.

'The life'.. 'The life'... The big thing was the taking of the life. Some night-folk thought the blood itself was just ancillary to that. And now? Who knows?... Evolution after dark. That's what it is. Machines evolve. Why not vampires?

But then how will they be created? The sharing of the blood is central to that. And, in a sense, a 'death' does happen. The new life-eater does die.... So much to think about... So much to learn.

Maybe Baylah will find answers in Atlantic City?.... As the old song says - On the Boardwalk, in Atlantic City, you will walk in a dream. On the Boardwalk, in Atlantic City, life will be peaches and cream...

We featured the link last night and we'll do so again. Explore, what do you think?... BizarreAC.com ... Go ahead. Click it. Comes with a good video too...

It's been said that before anyplace had anything, Atlantic City had everything...

Perhaps we'll see...

Wonder if Tomas' old vellum tome, La Ciencia Vampirismo, has anything about that?...

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The Uber Vampire known as 'Papa' has a New Outlook & Baylah Seeks a Public Personae ... 11/25/13

The two vampirini drifted through various parts of creation for a while. Tomas listened, as 'Papa' shared judgments and insights. He decried the lack of variety in galactic living spaces, for every world was round, or more precisely an orb. I suppose the occasional potato shaped asteroid doesn't count, since naught but errant microbes ever live on them. And the old, old soul was much taken with suns. He loves them in fact. Something to do with their horrific glory when seen up close. In the past, he's been known to banish bothersome night-folk to stellar corona, there to drift suspended above the huge and terrible roiling surface, protected by a 'bubble' of his own creation. Odd they don't immediately ignite from all that 'daylight,' but they don't. Perhaps because minus the refractive qualities of an atmosphere it isn't truly daylight, but just illumination? Yet another point in favor of a Divine Helmsman, for in a purely scientific and mathematical universe they should burn.

Imagine, from Cro Magnon hunting shaman to the erudite critic of creation he is today. In an infinite universe all things really are possible. 

Tomas said he smelled shit. But 'Papa' assured him it was only methane wafting out from inhabited worlds. Not necessarily indicative of intelligence, but merely a sign of expert defecators (such as pig and cows).

Then it was time to go home. No reason. It just was. 'Papa' sighed and the thick, milky, white, almost opaque mist came back again, manifesting in equal proportion from every point in creation. Tomas felt his body grow heavy, as billions of microscopic 'functionaries' hurried to conjure and weave suitable garments about his naked form. And they did it all of a piece... underwear... outer wear... inside and out, til he was attired in full Highland regalia. 'Papa,' on the other hand, sported something from The Gap, a windbreaker, jeans, polo shirt and sweater. You know the drill. Exactly thirty four heartbeats later they found themselves sitting on a bench by the little bronze goat in the middle of Rittenhouse Square Park. The mist was gone. The evening sky clear and sparkly. Few ordinary humans were about due to the cold. So they sat there collecting their thoughts. Tomas pondered his brush with destruction, looked into they eyes of his vampiric progenitor and said 'Thank you.'... 'Papa' waved him of with a casual gesture. Scroll back a few nights. You'll see what it was. Then they got up and walked back to the townhouse. On the way, 'Papa' promised he'd visit more often. And a visit from him might mean anything from full fledged familial involvement, to catatonic episodes on a chair by the fire. That's just the way he was. But Tomas, his more or less 'son' was used to it and the other night-folk there about were too.

When they got there, Baylah, also an infrequent visitor, was waiting. She, like Tomas, is a very spiritual sort and needs 'deep meaningful' interaction with mortals from time to time. And ,no, what she does with her rich, human, bed partner doesn't count. 

Baylah had pamphlets all about a convention in Atlantic City called 'Horror A.C.' or something like that... a symposium for lovers of enchantment and things that go bump in the night. Had a link and everything. BizarreAC.com ... I think it was. Very real. Not at all fiction. This isn't that, as those of you who visit regularly know. She wants to attend... rent a table and everything... give 'em 'swag' pose for pictures... give advice... lecture on El Mundo Vampido and all.

So Edith bustled about lighting small, apple scented aroma candles (a vampire favorite), as the exotic threesome discussed the rightness (or wrongness) of it.

But our Beyonce look-alike had already made up her mind. 

And the Great Arc of The Heavens advanced over head, as the city slept, while deep within the cobbled streets of Society Hill three night-folk, snug in the townhouse, drank their tea. 

(more next time)

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Vampire Mob Season Two COMPLETE! ...THE BEST! Like RAY DOVOVAN WITH FANGS!

Why ain't this on cable TV? Got SHOWTIME written all over it....WATCH THIS... Take an hour (almost) and see what talented people can do. Then please click on @JoeWilsonTV ...and tell him how much you like it. Besides Vamire Mob, he also creates and oversees @PLShorts ... and the much anticipated @fearthecrypt .... Why don't you go follow all of them? Yo, 'creative' people... this means us.

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Billy
p.s. I wanna talk about Joe and his sites too. If you want, contact me on twitter at @wilkravitz ... More Vampire Wonderland stuff later.

The Vampire Known as Tomas Floats Free In A Void and Other Places Too ... 11/24/13

And then they were gone from that place. The dusty ruins of the old Gimbel Brothers subway store lay far behind. Tomas found himself floating in a warm, misty, milky-white void. There was no up. There was no down... No shadows and no breeze. Our favorite vampirino surveyed his body and was pleased to find the nasty boo-boos inflicted by that loathsome ghoul were almost gone. 'Papa's' work, no doubt, for maybe three heartbeats later that venerable uber-vampire condensed out of the void and began to solidify. 

Tomas whispered (it seemed disrespectful to talk) - Where am I?.... And his vampiric progenitor pointed toward him and said - Over there.... (No use arguing with one as powerful as that). Then they just floated,  like weightless astronauts in space. 'Papa' yawned, scratched his belly and sighed. Tomas dozed. Perhaps he nodded off. Hard to tell in such comfy surroundings. Maybe Limbo used to be like this before it got cancelled?

But subsequently, things began to change. I say 'subsequently' because time was immaterial, just as it must be after death. you know, when someone conks out (eternally, I mean) one nano second's the same as a billion years. And ten thousand eternities but a heartbeat. Look, you know what that's like. You were dead before you were born. Makes waiting for The Resurrection so less tedious.....

 Then the void slowly grew translucent. some parts seemed brighter. Some parts less dense. The cloud (if that's what it was) gradually dissolved and our two preternatural beings found themselves drifting through space. Stars blazed all around them. Here a comet. There a comet. Here a nebula. There a nebula.... Like a whole bunch of glittery stuff dangling in a real big diorama. Except nothing actually glittered of flickered much since they were lost in space and minus any atmosphere to shake things up. Each star had it's own special color. Some were red. Some were orange. Some were yellow. Some were blue. And when they drifted close to some, the stellar coronas danced like magic auras.

Tomas was surprised they were so small. Most no bigger than a softball, though occasional basket balls and ping-pong balls were present too.  Planets ranged in size from dust mote to bee-bee pellet. Asteroids were invisible, though  comets shined bright and distinct. Tomas passed his hand through a tail (cometary, I mean.) , so cool... so ethereal.  And when part of his butt brushed against  a yellow star, not unlike our sun, he was surprised it only stung a little bit.... 'Papa' made sure they didn't disturb any of the planets, since some may harbor life and the sight of immense, naked, humanoids filling up the sky was bound to be frightful enough as it is.

Then he said - Creation is really so boring. Anyplace worth going to is round. No variation. Just round. ..... And Tomas wondered how the sound was able to reach his ears without any air. But he just mumbled - Uh huh... as his groin passed over a world filled with beings celebrating their summer solstice. Needless to say, mounds and mounds of alien potato salad were left unconsumed, as the populace endured a spectacle no Macy's Day balloon could ever match.

(more next time)...

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A TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND YEAR OLD UBER VAMPIRE TEACHES A GHOUL A LESSON... 11/22/13

Now to get back to the dusty, buried remains of the old Santa's Toyland, hidden in the bowels of the long forgotten Gimbels Department Store....

The vampire known as Tomas lay on the floor and retched all over a tumbled display of Weevles (they wobble, but they won't fall down). And a thin, rather iridescent, sticky 'gruel' dribbled from his mouth with each gnawing contraction. A roach or too scurried over to taste it, but soon realized the exotic nature of this soup and ran back to their secret dens. 

'Papa' stopped, looked down at his stricken 'son' and the pain immediately lessened. This twenty eight thousand year old presence has great power. No showy hand gestures or Elizabethan verse spells for him. He thinks, therefore it is. Then he turned his gaze to the strange, almost physical ghost and walked on. 

Now ghouls are a rare breed...' survivors' of premature burial. Oh the actual bones rest moldering in a crypt somewhere, but the essence, the spirit, of the soul so tortured, races from the unbelievable horror of the situation, erupting from the earth like a rocket. And the tight, hard knot of terror draws power (the ether is always willing to release a little of that). And the power condenses into something dense and 'real' and cold. Cannibals they are... cravers of human flesh... dead flesh 'cause it's easy... live flesh 'cause it's hot. Makes them feel all real. In that way they share a bit of the magic with vampires. But those noble princes of the night despise them.

Not every soul gone live to the grave becomes such. Most lost darlings gasp, cry, scream, thrash, scrape their fingers to nubs (true, the bones pierce through the flesh), smash their noggins 'gainst the lid (noggins get bloody too), gasp some more, wheeze a little, whisper prayers and die. Them's the pious ones. Some what ain't pious end like this... like Johnny Jump Up, over there... He's scared. Would shit hisself, if he could, but the energy what moves him is strong, immediately burning up each gobbet of meat, leaving him empty, always empty. He smiled at 'Papa,' showing that silvery, shark toothed grin. Maybe he meant to scare him. I don't know. But what a fool he is. Can't put no fear in one like this. 

'Papa' moves closer. The fiend lurches back and crab walks up a Christmas tree shaped display of Great Garloos . Thirty six inch tall green, plastic, robot geniis tumble to the floor. Some of them still talk. They croak - Your wish is my command... Your wish is my command.... 'Papa' points at the ghoul... The terrified thing yells - No! No! No!.. as his body rapidly shrinks to the size of a small, manikin-like doll... Not Barbie... Not Ken... More like Skipper (we disembodied spirit narrators know many things). And the uber vampire scoops him up like a runaway ferret. He holds him. He strokes him. The thing cries. It whines and pleads for mercy. But there will be none of that tonight, for the twenty eight thousand year old avenger presses down hard and crushes him, breaking every 'imaginary' (though to the ghoul, quite real) bone in his body..... The crying stops... 'Papa' cleans his hands on Strawberry Shortcake's dress. Then he drops her to the floor. Two heartbeats later the roaches come out to dine. Maybe the feast seems real to them? Perhaps they're ghost things too?

And whether the thing known as Johnny Jump Up is gone for good, I do not know. Events are quite fluid in the night world. Magic is so hard to pin down.

Then the powerful being picks up his injured 'son' and departs, leaving only frightened child ghosts peering from the corners of this ruined, dusty space lit by dozens and dozens of false, plastic, lithium fueled candles. Heartbeats pass and even the ghosts dissolve, as abandoned toys alone in the feeble, glow look on...

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