They met in the Residence, Doctor Franklins very commodious quarters in the extensive complex under The Philadelphia Navy Yard. He had a cozy library too. An eighteenth century 'wench' robot served drinks. Due to his nativity during the British, colonial era, Franklin preferred gin. Jonathon didn't care. In his youth, all they had was wine, or perhaps a mead-like beer. The glasses came from Monticello, not the heavy, round, club-room ones used for vodka and gin today, but more in the style of squat, heavy goblets. The Doctor was very proud of them. He missed Jefferson. What that mind could have accomplished today. Jonathon liked libraries. He felt safe in them. Even vampires with their special powers feel vulnerable. Sometimes all that comes with being night-folk seems natural. And sometimes it feels anything but. That's why Jonathon believes so much. He tells himself God understands. God wants this and He'll save him. He's sure of it, but sometimes the fear slips in. He remembers Muggs. He remembers the vampire chimp. That wasn't so long ago... three or four years at most. Look, Jonathon didn't create him, but somehow he came to be. How is that possible? Did God want him to 'cull' evil chimps? Did it have anything to do with spirituality? Was it all just an unusual physical condition... a sexually transmitted disease, if you will?... Vampires, at least all 'noble' vampires think too much. So they sat there in that safe, warm room drinking their gin... two fine gentlemen, occupying 'antique' reproduction wing chairs, facing each other across a small, round, Chippendale 'cordial' table. Then Franklin sighed and said - I heard about another talking in tongues thing.... Jonathon looked up as he went on... It happened in Massachusetts. I'm originally from there. Did you know?... Jonathon nodded... Franklin said - I think it was somewhere on the North Shore. A tenth grade, high school Spanish class started speaking in a language that wasn't Spanish. Twenty six young people, all in unison, eyes closed, start singing, or reciting what sounded like a hymn, or a dirge. Teacher got scared. Started clapping her hands and yelling - Stop it! Stop this now! But you know how spiritually possessed kids are? No, I don't mean that as a joke. Being night-folk and all, you really DO know. From what they sent me, she called the office. Secretary sends up two ladies who keep discipline and write kids up in the lunchroom. They barge in, chests out, long, lacquered fingernails waving around in the air, yelling - OK, room 311, do we have to start writing people up!? Then Lunchroom Lady Number two spots a kid she knows, a bad kid, but bad in a good way. Stands right in front of him and goes - Shit-Ass ( she calls him by his schoolyard name) Shit-Ass! Shit-Ass! Open your eyes! But he doesn't open his eyes. Then the kids, all twenty six of them, strike a chord, a strong, piercing chord. Adults in the room grab their ears and double over. They have it all on video. One girl in the back, not in the class, but a wrap-around, an aide there to keep a neurologically challenged boy on task, taped it all on her phone. She's only twenty two, so maybe she don't count as an adult. You can see it if you want. They put it on You Tube under 'Shit-Ass! Shit-Ass! Shit-Ass! Open your eyes! Already has seventeen million hits. Here, I have it on my laptop. You want to see? Jonathon exhaled and nodded..... The old reprobate reached over for a slim laptop on a side table, flipped it open and cranked it up. Then he handed it to the vampire and said - Here, look..... Jonathon did, but the trouble was he recognized some of the words.... Franklin thought he might, so he left him alone and slipped out to go feed this creature they have in the 'menagerie' that looks like Amy Shumer, but only if she was a centaurina..... <more next time>
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Jonathon sat across from him, his leg vibrating with impatience. You know how it is when the knee bounces up and down a mile a minute? He looked at 'Papa.'.... Nothing. No reaction. No response. He nudged Annie. He said - You tell him.... So his juvenile, vampire, 'half sister' went over to whisper in her 'Papa's' ear. She asked him about Conrad. She asked when her own vampiric son might go free. And this had been going on for hours. Edith served chilled vodka and grappa, even a kind of salty bullion they liked. The big flat screen over the mantle was on. Sarah watched a paranormal show on the History Channel.... Were Merfolk Real?... or something like that.... If mortals only knew. Well, if more than a few mortals only knew. Then the vampire, Jonathon, got up, kicked the cocktail table out of the way (Edith could get a replacement on Antiques Row in the morning), went over to the motionless, semi-entity, uber vampire, put his hands on his shoulders, glared into his eyes and said - Bring him back. It's enough. If you destroy him, if you destroy us all, you'll have no link to this era. You'll be a stationary, roiling, thunderstorm that thinks. Do you want that?... Then he gave Sarah a look.... She clicked off the TV. The suddenly quiet, dim, still room had an effect on the 'Papa' and he blinked.... But Jonathon didn't move. In a low determined voice he said - Bring him back..... But nothing happened. The one they called 'Papa' just sat there. The refrigerator in the kitchen started to hum. Annie sighed. Edith read a magazine about the Kardashians. She drew mustaches and glasses on all the faces. That was a 'thing' with her. Sometimes she gave them butterfly wings too. Not just the Kardashians. She did it to everybody in all the magazines. Vladimir Putin looked like he escaped from a Gay Pride parade, with eyelashes and a beauty mark and all. A few more heartbeats went by. Jonathon still leaned on the old one's shoulders, till a micro instant later, the ether filling the place shook with a piercing scream. Jonathon and Annie shot out of the room, across the entrance hall and up the stairs, all the way to Conrad's chamber on the third floor. Annie ran in first. He was lying on his back, convulsing on the bed, eyes rolled back in his head. Jonathon grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face. After a bit Conrad relaxed and sat up, sobbing uncontrollably. No one said a word, but Annie hugged him. Edith brought him some cold vodka. He slept. They sealed all the shutters and draperies so he could sleep through the night and the next day too, if he wanted too. Jonathon went downstairs. He confronted 'Papa.' He said - What did you do to him? ... The old one looked up under well formed brows and said - I saved him.... and that was it. No one said anything else.... Edith went back to defacing celebrities. Sarah clicked on the television, this time some house hunters thing on HGTV..... All they do is 'House Hunters' - she said... But she exhaled and watched anyway. Jonathon retreated to his cozy, little library, where he lost himself in antique volumes. He'd heard about a new 'talking in tongues' case and wanted to ask Doctor Franklin all about it. Now that Conrad was back, he could. And the night went on..... But across the way, a certain nosy, updated 'yuppie' stopped peeking through the drapes, turned to her husband and said - That was a a scream. I know it. It was a scream..... Her husband, Lars said - So it was a scream. What business is that of yours? Constance never listened to him. She went back to the drapes and peeked through again, but the townhouse across the street was closed up tight and quiet, though a rather gamin, elfin looking creature scampered across the roof..... This time she remained silent and kept the news to herself. But Archie saw. She was holding him and he saw it too. The little Yorkie knew. 'Lucid' canines understand everything with a focused clarity known only to certain humans.... Do people know about them?... No, they do not. No one does, not even other dogs...
Cats might sense something, but then again, they're cats.
Look, the world is filled with magic. Everything is everywhere.
What do YOU choose to believe?
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Thousands of years ago, I was already a life-eater. This one, the one you call Madam Shang, saw stringy, little screeching humans devoured by bears like baby Kongs. Wolves like ponies ruled the land and mortals hid from them, leaving tribute where they would find it. Eat this meat - they said. And leave our people alone. In this way noble creatures forgot who they were. They forgot 'the hunt.' They forgot 'the kill.' They lived. They reproduced and they forgot. And their great strength and great stature ran away. Thus was the coming of the dog... And I saw it all. I saw an ice world disappear and the great, furred elephants went with it. So do not think your world is a static place. It is not. Future flavors of 'humanity' percolate now, waiting for a time of flowering and great expansion. The one you know as Jonathon, or Tomas dreams of a beauteous age of love and understanding. It will come, but only when they who cannot imagine such a thing, or run from the realization of it turn to another path. Such is growth, constantly branching out, like the twigs of a tree. I tell you these things because sometimes I feel like sharing. Your lives are like tiny spinning tops. We play with them, those like me and those much greater. The one you call 'Papa' knows. He is just on the brink. After twenty eight millennium he remembers. He remembers his beginning, though he sees a greater future. Do you know that without the one's you call 'vampires' you would not be here? They shaped you. I know you've heard them say - Not the shepherd but the sheep dog... and cull the wicked... save the worthy..... That's what they do now, at least the ones who aspire to nobility. They look for spiritual 'worthiness.' We were not so high minded. We looked for other things. Standards change. The Conrad vampire lays in hopeless torture. He thinks it's forever. And in some cases it might be, or nearly so. I cannot tell you how many powerful adepts have left others like him in caves and hidden places the world over. They conjure the most horrific illusions... lakes of sulfur and fire... swallowed by loathsome beasts... devoured by flesh eating insects... witness and victim to planetary collisions. The variety is endless. Sometimes the entities who fashion such distractions forget about them. And a poor mortal languishes forever, or however long it takes a cave to disappear, but I don't even know if that would stop it. .... Imagine, after all that time and all I've seen and tasted, there are things I still don't know.
My God, your lives are like sparks. How do you deal with it? Over so fast. I'd think people would be clamoring to become vampires.
Annie sits with Conrad, although he's obviously blind to her presence. In her own way, she is a dutiful 'mother'.... an eleven or twelve year old in a seven year old's body with a forty year old son. How interesting. And although she periodically swears she's given it up, still addicted to biting off the toes of her victims before she kills them . Night-folk are each unique in their own way.... the first step up from mere mortality. Now permit me to go. I have beings to meet, deep within the interior of the sun. <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click ADDICTION ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click SALT CELLAR ... to join me on Twitter. you might want to scroll back and read the two episodes before this as explanation. please comment. thank you.
Meanwhile, as Conrad suffered his penance, something was going on across the street and a little way down the block.... Constance and Lars are mortals, not vampire, or witch-folk, or paranormal in any way. He's a curator at some museum... urine samples through the ages, or something like that. She sells artisanal sweaters made by Andean shamans from skeins of their own shorn hair. Takes ten years to save enough hair for a really good one. Any change in color during that time is incorporated into the design. They live in a townhouse, not as large as what the vampires have, though impressive enough for a couple not yet thirty five. In their spare time he studies Mongolian throat singing and she spies on the neighbors. Now this is a quiet secluded street. It has only five houses. Two on the vampires' side and three on the side where Lars and Constance live. Between them are blank, red brick walls punctuated by heavy, green, metal doors used to make deliveries to commercial establishments that open onto adjacent thoroughfares. That's why Jonathon picked it after they moved back into Center City from Chestnut Hill. Night-folk crave seclusion. . The former owner was a mute solitaire champion, who played game after game in a small garret room on the third floor, right next to where Billy sleeps now. The man detailed each contest in a small, leather bound book. He called his non-existent opponent 'Mister Boogity.' And Mister Boogity never ever won, till a certain night one cold November. It all hinged on the turn of a card... a black queen and he wins... a red queen and it's over. He sighed, thought for a moment and reached for the card. It had to be the black one. He'd played the game, or it's variants, so often. He knew all the odds. The house was silent and dark, locked up snug against the freezing rain. But he ignored the sound. The game was everything. And there, in that snug space, lit only by a small, balloon vendor lamp, like little children sometimes have in their bedrooms, he turned the last card. As The Great Celestial Director would have it, the huge, illuminated, pale yellow clock face, high atop the six hundred foot tall, Third Empire tower at City Hall chimed three. When the last echo died, the solitaire champion saw what he had.... a red queen. The game was over, Mister Boogity's first triumph. The man just sat there staring out at the storm on the other side of the small, mullioned window. He never even noticed as the toy sized figure of the balloon vendor on the base of the lamp let fly his wares and began to grow... But, who knows? Maybe he did notice? Maybe he just didn't care? When the clown-faced thing put it's cold hands around his throat and began to break the windpipe, he mouthed three small words - Who are you?...... The thing contorted its face into a rictus far larger and more frightening than any human grimace... On its upper teeth one read the word 'M-I-S-T-E-R.'... On the lower teeth, B-O-O-G-I-T-Y.... The loser saw it all reflected backwards in the window, against the blackness of the storm beyond. And then he was dead... Did his ghost join the spirit of the little polio victim in the basement?... Maybe yes. Not every soul makes its presence known. As for Mister Boogity, he simply went back to his place on the lamp, which was packed up and sold a few months later. Excuse my digression, but I thought you'd like to know. Now Constance had her suspicions about 'that house' across the street. She saw them come and go after dark... only during the night... no other time. She saw Jonathon and Sarah and Conrad and Annie... Who lets a little girl run lose at all hours? She wanted to call the department of human welfare, but Lars stopped her. She still wants to corner Edith and question her. Edith comes and goes during the day. Her she can get. But it's late now. Constance peeks through the draperies at the house across the street. Is it dark in there? Are there lights? Hard to tell. The shades are down. The drapes are drawn. But a small, feeble glow seems to be coming from a certain third floor room... the solitaire player's room and Conrad's room now. And she can see that. <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click - MIDNIGHT ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland ... click - THREE IN THE MORNING ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. thank you.
The venerable, uber vampire, known as 'Papa' has quite a repertoire. Whether these things are magic, or some sort of extremely well developed, focused brain 'energy' is not known. Doctor Franklin wanted to run tests, but 'Papa' wouldn't even look at him. Jonathon thinks it's magic. With his religious faith, that's not a big deal. Edith says faith is a gift. God gives it to you, or he doesn't. Annie says she's gonna shop lift it. Edith tells her she's just plain evil. Annie says she ain't 'plain' anything. Nobody's gone in the room yet, only 'Papa.' They heard Conrad whimper, then nothing. Annie whispered - I wanna go see. Conrad's mine and I gotta go see.... But Jonathon held her back. He whispered - Be still. Remember what 'Papa' did to you?.... She did. Floating free, just above the crests of the highest waves roiling over the surface of the sun tends to stay with you. She saw Hell, in a manner of speaking and didn't like it. Still dreams about it too. Why that didn't kill her, being vampire and all is a mystery. That's why Jonathon thinks it's all a grand illusion. 'Reality' is a relative thing. A feather brushed against the skin in the dark becomes a spider. Shadows become ghosts and small scratching rodents, deep within the walls double as coded messages from the dead. Believe me, either way, real or illusion, Conrad would see quite a show. And this is what happened..... He heard a voice, a still, low voice. It said - Arise and atone for your sins.... He obeyed, got up and walked, all alone, across a vast dark grey plain that was smooth and vaguely ceramic under his bare feet. The nighttime sky was bright with stars.. so bright they scared him. City people never see sights like that. So he looked down and walked... No breeze, nothing but still, cold air. At first he tried to count his footsteps. After eleven thousand and forty five he lost track, but his mind filled with other things. He saw the victims...He saw their families... He felt the pain and the loss... Then after an indeterminate length of time he saw a hill, a small rise in the surface. When he got closer there was an opening... a round mouth as dark as coal. Conrad tried to pull back, but his feet stepped in just the same. Soon he was lost in blackness... no horizon... no stars... nothing. He was afraid to make any sound at all, as he continued down an endless, gradual slope. But then it stopped. The surface disappeared. He slipped off the edge and tumbled into the void, spinning and falling like a leaf... There was no sensation of time. There was no 'now,' no 'then.' Was this eternity? He didn't know. But he could still think. Sometimes he ran through detailed, precise, recollections of his childhood... his Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots... vacations in Wildwood, New Jersey... when his Uncle Jack and Aunt Fritzie got married... the squeaky, orange, vinyl sofa in the basement... his mom's scalloped potatoes... how worried his dad was when he broke his arm... Then he landed... He came down, softly on what seemed to be another ceramic-like surface. That, in itself, was a different, welcome sensation. Then he counted his inhalations and exhalations. After eight hundred and fifty two, the voice came back.... It said - You are in a hollow world. A huge egg shell in space. You've spanned three hundred thousand miles and here you will stay till you've learned. Then silence... Till the knowledge of the four innocent victims returned.... Alone in the dark... on the edge of creation... How long would it last? Back at the townhouse, 'Papa' left Conrad's bedroom. He passed the others, each frozen in place, afraid to look at him and went down to his club chair in the den....A few heartbeats later, Jonathon and the rest ran after to see what, if anything they could learn. But little Annie didn't go down.... She quietly opened the door... and entered the dark, silent room.... <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click SILENCE ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click DARKNESS ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. thank you.
Jonathon knew it was time for Conrad to go. He had to arrange for the trip. The easiest way for night-folk to move from point to point over land is to sublimate, but Conrad is too new and he cannot do that. Plus it's not like he's traveling for pleasure. 'Papa' could do it. He could transport him. That one could send his molecules anywhere, or at least anywhere within the orbit of Jupiter. They know he can go that far from his visits to the creatures under the ice of Europa. But Jonathon felt sorry for the drab, young vampire. Look, he forgot his vows every once in a while too. Not now so much, though in earlier times he did... the years in Restoration London and all... when he was in Old Muscovy... Byzantium. They all do... Slaughter not the innocent.... Conrad did that. He did it four times. He killed simple, decent people and left their families to mourn. He had to learn. Still, maybe The Vampire Revels isn't the place. They'd make a big show out of it. They'd torture him. Some of those bastards are the biggest hypocrites on Earth. He'd cry. He'd plead. Silver City Jack was the leader up there. Jonathon didn't know too much about him. started out as a prospector. Went out west with The FortyNiners . Bounced around when the gold ran out. Did time in Nevada.. a few other places. I don't know how he got up to British Columbia. Most train lines went from east to west, especially in the early days. They just wanted to get folks out there. Once they were out there, who cared? Maybe he went vampire with some native tribe and migrated up? Jonathon spent time with the Indians, but he was already a vampire for centuries when that happened. They called him 'the windego.' 'Papa' occupied his chair in the den. You know how Abraham Lincoln sits in The Lincoln Memorial? Like that... a big club chair. He rarely moves. He rarely does anything. Just sat there staring at late night reruns of Press Your Luck. That's why we all say - No whammies No whammies no whammies... It gets in your head. you know? Jonathon got up from the kitchen island and went into the den. He stood in front of 'Papa's' chair. In a still, small voice he said - You know our problem. You know everything. But you sit there. You just sit there... and you sit. Once in a while you rise, of course when no one's looking... then you slip back in and sit. What do you do when you go out? Do you kill? Edith says you kill. She says you feed. She's a mortal and she knows. Look, do you want to know the truth? We know too, Sarah and I, but we don't like to think about it. My God, the world's beginning to change. Children are speaking in tongues. That's a sign. That means something. And I want it to be so....... 'Papa' just sits there... Jonathon just stands there. Then he says - Help us. Help me make it mean something. I don't want us all to fly off into chaos. Not now. Not this time. Can't you do something? Can't you scare him? That's all he needs. My God, Annie should never have turned him. Look what we go through because of her. 'Papa' blinked... with that he blinked. You see, Annie was his 'mistake,' Jonathon's evil, little 'half sister,' if you will... And with that blink, the universe missed a beat. Jonathon jumped back. One never knows what a twenty eight thousand year old, part time Cro-Magnon shaman, in a thirty two or thirty three year old body will do..... But two heartbeats later the former shaman rose to his feet, gently pushed Jonathon aside, left the room, crossed the black and white, marble tiled hall (dimly and tastefully lit for the evening) and climbed the stairs. Jonathon quickly fell in behind him. Dawn was still more than two hours away. He wasn't going up to retire. He was going up to Conrad's room... and Jonathon went up with him. Annie heard the footsteps and peeked out her door. They never knew if she was home, or out, or where she was. They were all used to that, but she was in the house and she loved Conrad in her own twisted way, so she ran up after them, as they ascended to the third floor. Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Where are you going? What are you gonna do?!... She knew all about Conrads ' 'transgression' and she was afraid. But no one answered her and Jonathon grabbed her shoulders and held her back, as 'Papa' walked through the door and entered the room All was quiet.... and then Conrad whimpered... <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click MARBLE ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland ... click TILES ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. please, if you visit my Twitter site, kindly read all of my pinned tweet (it's the first one at the top) and retweet it if you like it. basically it's an idea for a Downton Abbey-like series detailing the lives of an upperclass, landed, African-Creole family from their two hundred year old manor house in Jamaica.... the Dabney's of Bon Aire.... There's going to be an 'Old New York' Downton spin-off. Why not a West Indian one with 'Sir' So & So and his 'Lady' too? Such dynasties do exist... Make a good story... Take a look?
I want to tell you a few things. The reason I picked Billy to run this blog thing for us is because I'd already seen some of his material. This is Jonathon speaking, in case you cannot tell. Vampire's have a certain rhythm and cadence to their speech. It comes natural when we're not 'affecting' something else. We just see things our own way. That's how it is. Well, Billy had this script. He still does. It's about a family of Philadelphia night-folk a lot like us. That's what surprised me. He didn't know me back then. He didn't know any of us. I don't think he'd actually seen a real vampire either. Oh, not all the characters were like us, but some were. No, I have to go back. The strange, little, cozy, all night book shop, PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK was around then. He was obviously familiar with that place. Sarah says she thinks she remembers him coming in a few times. He'd look around, wander through the tight, maze-like aisles. Usually bought a paperback. Maybe he picked up on something? I used to go in there too. Energy smears out into the ether when we pass by... not just night-folk... mortal folk... everybody. He sent it to a production company in Los Angeles... Sent it to a lot of production companies, talent and literary agencies too. One of those production companies had a gentleman with family in Philadelphia. He used to come back for a lot of holidays. I got to know him from a dark, little, club-like bar-restaurant on Sixteenth Street, The Happy Rooster they called it. He'd have a big bowl of gourmet chili at the bar. I'd drink my chilled vodka. We talked. One night he had this manuscript. He looked at it, was flipping the pages... went back... looked some more. I asked him what it was. He said it was a script all about modern day vampires in Philadelphia... I wanted to know if it was any good. Can you imagine? It was surreal. He had no idea I was a vampire. Sometimes movie people, behind the scenes types, are the most unobservant people you'd ever want to meet. Everything's all mapped out. They know who they want to know. They think what they always think. I hate when they're interviewed and talk about how they love the thrill of discovering a unique, new talent. What they don't tell you, is more often than not, that new talent is somebody's son, or niece, or bed partner. No, no, no, they do not tell you that. But it's a small industry and how many 'new, unique talents' do they need? Oh, outsiders can apply, but you know the rest.... He was lost in the thing, the script, I mean, so I asked him again. Without even looking up, he said - Oh, I guess there's a certain amount of ability and talent here, but 'talent' they all got, or at least some of them. Cousins they don't..... As you know, vampires see a lot, though Hollywood was new to me. I asked him to explain. He scraped up the last of the chili (the place was famous for it) spooned it into his mouth, swallowed and said - I got a guy across the street... not here... in L.A.. His kid went to camp with my kid. Went to U.S.C. film school with him, everything. I see them all over town. Guy runs a hedge fund, a good one. One I want in on. You know, they don't just take anybody. A lot of old Academy members are in it. In West L.A. that's like high society. And his kid has a script too, vampires, magic, everything. Just like this one. So I got to ask myself... what could I get out of this one and what could I get out of that one? You know how it is? You do favors for people who can do you even bigger favors back. And this is by a kid in Philadelphia too...It's a shame... Three months later, Billy got his script back in a big manila envelope with a form letter that guaranteed it was completely unexamined for lack of proper industry recommendations. Basically, in Hollywood, that means 'who's your daddy?' ... Or maybe who does your daddy know? Funny thing is every other agency, or production company sent it back the same way... some with letters from the legal department saying - Do not contact us. If we hear of interesting parties, WE contact them. They do NOT contact us. Sad thing is, it's a good script. I've read it twice. I've tried to help, but who do I know in California? Know a few night-folk in London, but they're not film industry types. A few acquaintances from THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN house on Hoxton Street might know a bit. Film folk often show up at strange places like that, the 'mystery' and all. Upright vampires, that's what PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK is about. I cry when I read the final scene. It's that kind of play, or screenplay, I mean. Always imagine the score from TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD when I read it. Maybe we'll post a few scenes here? Before I stop, pleased know that Conrad is going to this year's Vampire Revels and it won't be easy for him. How many things in Vampire Wonderland ever are? Please listen to the music up above. I, Jonathon ben Macabi, or Tomas de Macabea, hope you like it. <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click SCREENPLAY ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click OSCARS ... to join me on Twitter... please post a comment. thank you.
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