Thank Heaven for Little Girls from Gigi ~~~ OPAL is groomed for her place in PARANORMAL ROYALTY ... 5/29/14

The spare, fit scientist took Opal to be inspected by a formidable matron in a palatial penthouse atop a meticulously preserved pre-war apartment tower. At this time we cannot reveal the location. They may have stayed in Philadelphia, or traveled a short distance up to Gotham, or down to Baltimore. We might be in Boston, too, for that matter. Since, as discussed earlier, we only pretend this is fiction, security is of the utmost. 


They parked in a clean, crisp, underground garage... all smooth, polished concrete and creamy gray paint, amidst a candy box of vintage limousines plus the occasional Duesenburg or two. A liveried flunky opened the door, addressed the spare, fit woman by name (prefaced by her academic degree) and lead them to a somewhat small, private elevator carpeted in plush Aubusson and paneled in antique, gold smoked mirror. Of course all trim and fittings were of finest, heavy bronze... No brass... Too garish. The flunky went with them, as he was the pilot of the contraption, since it lacked the accordion-like arrangement of illuminated buttons we've all learned to expect.


The conveyance silently ascended. Six minutes later they arrived at the fifty first floor and followed the liveried flunky out into a marble beaux arts foyer, through two tall doors opening on a large bright salon. Zombies have no aversion to sunlight, you know. A stately, older woman, seated on a chintz divan appraised them as they drew near. The spare, fit woman nodded. The stately matron nodded back. Opal just took it all in.  Then the seated woman addressed the flunky and said - Did anyone else witness their arrival?..... No, Madam - he said. I sent them away, other garage personnel, I mean, as the car approached..... And is the driver still down there? - she asked..... Yes, Madam - he said. Still in the car.... She reached into a small, beaded bag at her side, drew out a polished, chromium pistol, gave it to the young flunky and said - I want you to go down, shoot the driver, then step into one of the janitor's closets and shoot yourself. Aim for the head, behind your ear. It should be painless..... He nodded.... Thank you, Bainbridge - she said..... He nodded once more and left. They heard the door close, as he rode down..... Will he do it? - asked the spare woman...... Of course he will. You know how things are here. Now, please, sit down.... They did, though the scientist woman appeared a bit concerned, as they made small talk. Suppose she too was superfluous? But they needed her to insure optimal fertility, so til then she was safe.... maybe.


The matron turned her gaze toward Opal and said - So, this is the one.  And I am to play Madam Alverez to her Gigi. Well, I've done it before. I'm up to the task...... Then she paused for a moment and whispered - It's over. He's done it..... You mean the flunky? - said the spare woman..... The matron nodded..... Little Opal found her voice and quietly asked - Please, lady, how do you know?..... The matron reached over, patted her hand and said - Telepathy, my dear. Tell me. Do you know German?...... Opal shook her head...... No, of course you don't - said the teacher..... Languages, my dear. Tomorrow we start with languages.....


So they did. The training of a Zombie Queen had begun...


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Thank Heaven for Little Girls from Gigi ~~~ OPAL is groomed for her place in PARANORMAL ROYALTY ... 5/29/14

The spare, fit scientist took Opal to be inspected by a formidable matron in a palatial penthouse atop a meticulously preserved pre-war apartment tower. At this time we cannot reveal the location. They may have stayed in Philadelphia, or traveled a short distance up to Gotham, or down to Baltimore. We might be in Boston, too, for that matter. Since, as discussed earlier, we only pretend this is fiction, security is of the utmost. 



They parked in a clean, crisp, underground garage... all smooth, polished concrete and creamy gray paint, amidst a candy box of vintage limousines plus the occasional Duesenburg or two. A liveried flunky opened the door, addressed the spare, fit woman by name (prefaced by her academic degree) and lead them to a somewhat small, private elevator carpeted in plush Aubusson and paneled in antique, gold smoked mirror. Of course all trim and fittings were of finest, heavy bronze... No brass... Too garish. The flunky went with them, as he was the pilot of the contraption, since it lacked the accordion-like arrangement of illuminated buttons we've all learned to expect.



The conveyance silently ascended. Six minutes later they arrived at the fifty first floor and followed the liveried flunky out into a marble beaux arts foyer, through two tall doors opening on a large bright salon. Zombies have no aversion to sunlight, you know. A stately, older woman, seated on a chintz divan appraised them as they drew near. The spare, fit woman nodded. The stately matron nodded back. Opal just took it all in.  Then the seated woman addressed the flunky and said - Did anyone else witness their arrival?..... No, Madam - he said. I sent them away, other garage personnel, I mean, as the car approached..... And is the driver still down there? - she asked..... Yes, Madam - he said. Still in the car.... She reached into a small, beaded bag at her side, drew out a polished, chromium pistol, gave it to the young flunky and said - I want you to go down, shoot the driver, then step into one of the janitor's closets and shoot yourself. Aim for the head, behind your ear. It should be painless..... He nodded.... Thank you, Bainbridge - she said..... He nodded once more and left. They heard the door close, as he rode down..... Will he do it? - asked the spare woman...... Of course he will. You know how things are here. Now, please, sit down.... They did, though the scientist woman appeared a bit concerned, as they made small talk. Suppose she too was superfluous? But they needed her to insure optimal fertility, so til then she was safe.... maybe.



The matron turned her gaze toward Opal and said - So, this is the one.  And I am to play Madam Alverez to her Gigi. Well, I've done it before. I'm up to the task...... Then she paused for a moment and whispered - It's over. He's done it..... You mean the flunky? - said the spare woman..... The matron nodded..... Little Opal found her voice and quietly asked - Please, lady, how do you know?..... The matron reached over, patted her hand and said - Telepathy, my dear. Tell me. Do you know German?...... Opal shook her head...... No, of course you don't - said the teacher..... Languages, my dear. Tomorrow we start with languages.....



So they did. The training of a Zombie Queen had begun...



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THE TRUTH ABOUT THE DARK WORLD ... 5/27/14

A bigger fish always comes by. Lars and Uther thought they had her (Opal, I mean), but she got snatched up by that spare, fit, scientist bitch. That's how it is. And them what got the power don't care what you know. What the hell are you gonna do about it? When I started this 'blog' almost four years ago, the very first line was - First of all we must agree that what comes next is fiction.... And apparently there's no argument. I tell you about the life-eaters lightly sprinkled over most big cities and it's 'fairy tales.' I tell you 'bout Doctor Franklin's more-than-top-secret compound under The Philadelphia Navy Yard and it's 'comic book time.' The elferinos and elferinas are true. The Jersey Pine Barren witchie-folk are true. Ditto the mole-people and the ghouls and, now we got the zombies, primarily the non-decomposing intelligent variety. Twitter.com/Syfy <~~~( conveniently clickable link) knows. Go see. Go ask. But the vast majority of people in The Twitter.com/#vampirewonderland (and we're ALL in that) think it's merely a pixilated entertainment. What pawns. A few of you know. Small groups of midnight wanderers have been turning up outside 'the townhouse' and Baylah's 'piano bar' and along the preternatural, cobbled warrens of Society Hill. They've seen them... Tomas (before his demise) and Sarah and Luna.... Remember Mister Muggs, the accidentally 'vampire-ized' one hundred and eighty five pound manic chimp? He was a good one, rest his soul. And the Russian, billionaire, vampire, oligarch, Grigori Usipov (in a brand new body and everything) is still out there. Some of you know what his ebony jet, The Baba Yaga, looks like. But please don't get too close. His Siberian Tiger Pits are no place to die.

'The World is so full of a number of things... I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings'... Robert Louis Stevenson said that... Trouble is, there already are kings.

Zombies fight vampires and three castes of Lycanthropes fight each other. Vampire Wonderland is an oozing pustule of truth... Just keep squeezing.

But ponder this... How easy it is to control minions of night-folk... Vampires, zombies, lucid wanderers... who cares?... They kill those deserving of death and preserve those worthy of life... No 'high tech.'... Simple, direct and absolute.

You've heard stories... planted snippets of convenient 'truth.' Unwitting aliens are behind it... They're just a natural side-bar to human evolution, or (my favorite)--- no one really knows.

Well.... somebody does.

Explore... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... and add any intriguing term you like... lucid wanderers... Grigori Usipov... Jersey Pine Barrens... elferinos... cherubs... mer-folk... After more than 800,000 words the possibilities are endless. 'Links in a chain... May no man know its source'... That's also a quote...

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THE CREATURE CREATING, SPARE, FIT, SCIENTIST OUTLINES HER PLAN ... 5/25/14

The spare, fit woman outlined her plan. If they wanted success, there wasn't any other alternative. She sipped her ice water, eyed the more or less collegiate crowd in the place and in a quiet, though authoritative voice began.... 

I take the girl. She lives with me. I 'feed her.' I control her. Supply the necessary supplements and any other additives. When she requires human flesh... living human flesh, I mean, she will get it. Certain strains seem to afford a more salubrious effect. ....

Uther said - You think I don't know these things?

You, my friend, are a medieval Cretin. Why don't you go sack a city? You're can destroy things, but lack the finesse to create, shall we say, more evolved replacements. - said the woman.

Uther blanched. Lars had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Opal didn't understand any of it, or tried not to. She read the paper menu folded next to the napkin holder and asked if she might have a Strawberry Ricki, a sweet, nectary beverage from the nineteen fifties, apparently making a comeback. The woman motioned to a server. Four minutes later she had one, good and cold in a tall, narrow, frosted glass.... Lars said - give me a taste... And three minutes later he had one too. 

While they savored the syrupy concoction, Uther said - Why the attack? Why go after me? ..... The woman 'lasered' into him with her eyes, but didn't say a word. 

Lars said - What kind is best? The people, I mean... for the flesh. Who's on the menu? Tell me.

It varies. - she said. Polynesian Islanders provide a certain stamina, so do Tuareg tribesmen. Some swear by the Icelandic regimen. Others prefer certain, old Jewish clans from The Caucus. I believe in mixing... a bit of this.. a bit of that...

And your success rate? - he said.

The woman indicated Uther and said - Ask him. He knows.

Lars looked.... Uther said - She has two fertile females and one fertile male. Proven fertiles, I mean. A lot of people make claims. She does not. what she says is true.

Well, - she went. Permit me to 'up' you from Cretin to barbarian..... (apparently they shared a 'past' or something... non-decomposing zombies and humans 'couple' all the time, though nothing ever comes of it).

Lars asked - And what will you give us? What's she worth to you?

The spare, fit scientist said - We could kill you now and take her. Do you think I came alone?..... She turned to face the room and raised her glass. Nine stalwarts scattered among the tables returned the gesture. Half looked zombie. One might have been a vampire. It's difficult to tell.

So ten minutes later, Opal , a bit teary eyed, was bundled into the back of a sleek, black, panel van with a talkative zombie hairdresser, from Detroit, a non-decomposing one, naturally, though from the look of his purple tinged nails in need of a good meal.... As they sped away he said - Don't worry. They'll let you see your friends.....

They're not my friends - she said.

He just shrugged and read his OK magazine. In the corned was a big, lidless, red and white Igloo cooler. Like the kind tailgaters use for beer. Inside was a trussed up little midget steeped in what was probably three dozen bottles of A1 Steak Sauce. Opal eyed him curiously. 

The midget went - Hello.

Opal nodded......

My 'dinner,' My feeding. He's for me. But I'll go 'sharesies.' You want some? I don't mind. That's how I am. My mama raised me right. 

Opal said - Are you sure?

Hairdresser said - Absolutely, have a bite..... 

So she tore into a white, flabby, clammy, upper arm. (the 'dinner' was resting on his side)

And the main course began to scream - No! No! No! You said I'd be dead! You said I'd be dead! Where's the drugs?! Where's the drugs?! Where's the drugs?!

Oh, shut up, you dumb bitch you! Don't you know drugs are illegal? - said the hairdresser. Then he gleefully knelt down for a big mouthful of tushie....

Oh! So good...so good... so good - he went.

And Opal giggled, as blood dribbled down her itty, bitty chin.

How nice to see her smile...

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A CERTAIN LEARNED INDIVIDUAL FORMULATES A FEEDING SCHEDULE FOR ZOMBIE QUEEN, OPAL .. 5/23/14

There was a little place near Penn's campus, or perhaps it was Temple's. I can't tell you, because they don't want people to know. A vaguely Middle Eastern band played 'World Music,' drums... ouds... guitars and finger cymbals, as they rhythmically chanted old, Berber poems. Young people from the university gathered 'round low tables drinking arak, smoking Turkish cigarettes (rules weren't followed there) and nibbling sweet, glazed dates and salty, roasted peanuts.

A wide-eyed Opal sat in the back with Lars and Uther. The lights were low... all orange and dim. Few noticed her age. Some freshmen were little, skinny things. Seniors too, for that matter. Who cared. Those cigarettes were close to pot. Well, they made people feel sick and dizzy, so you could sort of pretend. Opal drank grappa, a clear, wine based, Italian intoxicant. Her more practiced handlers made do with a clarified slivovitz, a plum brandy-like liquor from Bohemia. They waited for fourth person to join them and appeared essentially human.

Opal kept her head down, studying the intricate floral pattern on the tablecloth.  She couldn't look at Uther, not after the stories... not after what went on in the caves. Oh, flesh she would eat and a zombie she was... but not like him. He relished the kill. He lived for the terror. She just craved the food.... a ninth grade carnivore with a taste for her own kind.

Then she came in. A woman walked through the door. Spare and fit, with a gaze like a hungry cat. No zombie, this one, just a scientist in search of knowledge. Doctor Franklin and his crew in the complex under The Navy Yard knew about her, but kept their distance. Twisted, she was... a cruel thing intrigued by poisons, legends and monsters. They say she once artificially inseminated a deranged, homeless woman with a sample from a young bonobo. Now the odds of success, if you could call it that, were infinitesimal, but this time it happened. The woman conceived and was bundled off campus to a remote house in the Allegheny Mountains. They watched her 'round the clock and kept her chained. Bettina, they called her. She was fed a specially prepared diet, outlined by the spare woman. They gave her supplements, exercised her. After eight and a half months of fresh air, walks in the woods, good food and daily massages she gave birth... a four pound, eight ounce 'baby' called Pee-Wee. But Bettina called him 'Stevie' and cried when they took him away. For two months they let her live, aspirating milk for the baby. After he'd absorbed sufficient immunity and other benefits they dropped her down a damp, dark, deserted mine shaft and left her for whatever lived in the blackness. Then they resealed the heavy, trap door, packed everything in a van and went back to the city.

Uther respected her know-how. He wanted this to work. A fertile zombie is a rare thing... a 'queen bee' if you will. And the spare woman had a plan guaranteed to make it so.

She approached the table, shook hands with the males, appraised Opal and sat down....

A waiter brought ice water. They knew her there. She never took strong drink. Then she and the males conversed in an unknown tongue.

Opal just sat there... and the band played on...

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for EL RANCHO TEXACO fans (we'll go back to the non-decomposing zombies & ghosts tomorrow) .. 5/21/14

It rained for forty days. And the ground drank it in. Basins became seas and wadis ran rich with the blood of creation. Mountains turned to islands and rainbows grew like vines. 

Then came the 'manna,' specially created seeds meant for the twice born land. That which was red became green. Bees were seen in the meadows and flowers and apples too. 

Behold, Mars breathes - they said.. our Sister is renewed. 

They came from the old places... troopers all, with memories of The Alamo and The Pampas and The Outback and The Bush. Great arks... space trains they were, taking people and dreams from Earth to a new place. Silver caravans stretched 'cross an endless sky with names like The City of New Orleans and The Rio de la Plata and the River Ganges.... 

Lower gravity worked its magic and 'The Tall People' came to be... flinty eyed settlers, self sufficient upon the plains. Cattle and livestock were transformed too and Pegasus flew once more.

After a time the people said - Let us build a settlement, a city, where we can trade our bounty and come together for good things. Thus was born Shiloh, Thebes and other places.

These were the first days. Mars grew strong and dynasties came to be. Those with power vied for seats in The Stone House. And those without cheered loudest. 

Come with us now to yesteryear... to a time when chupacabras roamed the high places and Tuva-Tuva clans remembered secrets. 

Behold, these are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO...... The West was won a second time and that time happened here.......

After we finish the current zombie-ghost story arc, we're going back there... to a place where 'first families' are called 'troopers' and the national anthem is SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON ....

The ghost of John Ford lives......

(forgive me this indulgence, but I love that story arc and am sore pressed to go back there... so if you're a TROOPER google EL RANCHO TEXACO by Billy Kravitz and scroll around... Return with us to El Polva Rosa.... And polish up your Spanglish... and maybe those spurs.)

You wanna see? Google SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON... either the song or movie trailer on You Tube...

Cotton Eyed Joe.... Cotton Eyed Joe...

and that's it for tonight.

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WEE HOUR ENCOUNTERS WITH STRANGE SPIRITS AREN'T ALWAYS NICE ... 5/20/14

Some people are bewitched by ghosts. Not in any traditional way. No spells. Few rituals. But it happens. They're confronted with ... well, a miracle, or what seems like a miracle. Life goes on. Bodies don't, but souls do. Though some souls aren't that nice. At least now they aren't. Death does that to people.....

Elizabeth Spring, aka Midnight Mary, drowned. She was on her way to the prom. Had a beau, a corsage, a frou-frou gown... the whole thing. Her date was Eddie. Two nice kids. Warm night. Clear. Big cheesy moon. Eddie wants to drive passed the lake. This is Tullytown in Bucks County, just north of Philadelphia. Tract house developments were still in the future. Suburbs were little country towns... old gray stone houses.... ice cream parlors called 'creameries.' ... maybe a Rexall drugstore. Like Peyton Place. No, really. This was nineteen thirty five. That's how it was. Even the crickets were fatter and they sang with the hop-toads. 

Now one side of the lake had a little beach. No hot dog stand. Nothing like that. Just a beach, the water and the fields. Looked real nice in the moonlight. Like something out of a story. Other side had a little rise, like a baby cliff. Deeper there too. Liz and Eddie wound up on that side, 'cause four other couples were already mushin' up over yonder. Nothing heavy. Gotta keep them dresses lookin' pretty. Miss Hall notices things like that.  So they parked and necked a little, swapped spit, played patty-hands. Five minutes. Ten minutes tops. That was all. Don't want to waste them two dollar and fifty cents a head tickets. Gonna have cream soda and lemonade. Cheese puffs and deviled eggs too.... little chicken salad sandwiches, coconut cake. Gonna be nice. Willy and The Jazz Boys playin'. They got pale blue dinner jackets. Principal Knoxley don't like that, but Coach Duffy gonna make him look the other way. Eddie's got a flask. His uncle brought it back from The Great War. Glass inside. Leather outside. Silver top. Got Jimmy Walker in it now. Red, I think. Boys do it every year. Juice up the punch. 'Put a little pepper in,' that's what they call it. Miss Hall watches like a hawk, but they get a few drops in.

Elizabeth says - Stop mashin' my boobie, you big, dumb nut! You're gonna crush the material. This is a Wanamaker's dress and you gotta know that. Your suit's rented so you don't care...... Eddie doesn't want to fight, so he puts the car in gear. Only she got him all nervous. Shifts into drive, instead of reverse. Two heartbeats later, it's over. They're in. From the edge of the little cliff to the water is about eight or nine feet. From the surface to the bottom another twenty five or so. Country lakes can be like that. Indentation fills up. Little valley gets wet... you got a lake....

Other kids on the opposite shore barely noticed. Lake's almost three blocks wide. That's five hundred yards. Little splash. Like a dive. That's all. Dark down there. Icy cold two. Smashed heads... you know steering wheels and dashboards weren't padded back then. Water rushing in. Car's not flat on the bottom. It's tilted. Twisted over on one side. Doors won't open. She's screamin'. Wanamaker dress all ruined now. Eddie tries to kick out the window. She keeps grabbing his neck. Car fills up real fast. Kids fight for the last bit of air up toward the roof. Coughing. Belching. Vomiting. Soon there's no air at all. Water don't care about no kids.

Now drowning's not the same as suffocating. It's a little more complicated. You know what it's like when you accidentally aspirate a mouthful of soda, or orange juice? It's like a hot, dead weight. Reflex kicks in and you 'cough up a lung' so to speak, but it's gone. You sit. You gasp. You wheeze. You sneeze. But it's over. And you live. They give you iced tea. They pat your shoulder and tell you to be careful... Well, drowning kids don't get that. They have to deal with a whole lot a mouthfuls. First they try to hold their breath. Head pounds. Chest cramps. Lungs burn. They breath out. For a split second they feel good. Then comes the fatal inhalation. Not air. Water. Imagine pouring heavy wet cement down your lungs. You see, drowning's not like going to sleep. It's torture. And it's not fast. Death waits for no one, except to prolong the agony. 

No one's ever seen Eddie's ghost. Guess he's somewhere else. But Liz is the belle of the ball, so to speak. Been in the papers for eighty years. Zak Bagins had her on his show. Don't know if she realized, though. Now she's got Topaz.... Poor, little, nine year old Topaz... And she's pulling her back toward the water.... Girl's crying... Not loud... Too scared for that. Ruby circles and whimpers. Tries to bite the ghost, but what can she bite? And the dead never tire. Ghosts never stop.

Topaz wants to scream, but she can't. She wants to run, but her legs won't do it. And the thing that is Elizabeth Spring keeps smiling, as fat, black, shiny, leeches fall from her lips

Then they reach the tiny lapping waves at the shore. Her feet are wet. Apparently nature doesn't care about nine year olds too.

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