This is how it happened. This is what they did after the real Ben Franklin fled the Anti Enchantment Bureau... .. But for newcomers, we'll provide some pivotal info. Ben Franklin never died. He preserved himself via the science of harmonics. Since the ostensible date of his demise he's been holding court in what has become a vast, multi-leveled science, technology and paranormal research facility hidden under what became the Philadelphia Navy Yard. In fact, it's the premiere facility of its type. Most days he tools around the endless hallways in his signature, green, Philadelphia Eagles sweat suits checking stuff... his white, wispy hair flying behind, like some mad scientist. No, wait a minute. That's exactly what he is. There are chambers with cutting edge apparatuses only he and his associates know how to operate. The biological floors host a who's who of exotic guests. An ancient mermaid woman regales all with shrill, old Sumerian sea shanties. Two young Jersey Devils inhabit a sylvan recreation of their Pine Barrens home. The ceiling of this gymnasium sized habitat is thirty feet up, allowing them enough space to stretch their leathery wings and fly. He has one Bigfoot and one Sasquatch. The differences are subtle, yet, never the less quite real. Both are essentially plant eaters but like chimps in the wild will eat meat, even human, when they can get it. This last fact was discovered when a hapless attendant accidentally got locked in their enclosure during a 'night' phase. The guy monitoring the video feeds fell asleep, so no one saw when the two frantic hominids cornered the shrieking little man and tore him limb from limb. Odd, how the mouth still moves on a specimen comprised of a head, neck, part of a chest (one inflating and deflating lung still visible), one shoulder and the upper half of an arm... And after a bit, they devoured those parts too... rubbery tendons (oh, how they snap)... cartilage... some of the bones... organs... North American indigenous hominids have the bite strength of three and a half lowland silverback Gorillas in heat.
Tales about the place are endless. But we're here to tell you what the government, or rather its most recent leaders did. Look, many people know about Area 51, and the God damned, chain smokin' cursin', foul mouthed aliens they got sittin' in the lunch room, suckin' their teeth and watchin' TV all day. Then when they get bored, the help has to run around findin' Flintstones Coloring Books. And they fight over who colors Wilma and who colors Betty. Doctor over there wanna slip 'em 'the needle,' but boss won't let him, 'cause America got a shortage a aliens, since a few ran off with some renaissance faire and one is married to a woman Laundromat owner in Beek-a-Boo, West Virginia. You know how it is.
When the genuine Ben Franklin disappeared few noticed, 'cause the look - alike was real good. And things got back to almost normal. Special Ops guys still walk around in their black uniforms with their threatening, but cool looking black guns. Guys from Washington hacked and downloaded the computers real fast. They don't know about the place up in the Poconos, or its completely separate data system. Staff figured they'd maybe take a juvenile Jersey Devil as a souvenir and drive back to D.C., but they didn't.
One day the main one, Captain Sigmund, makes Luna (she's Franklin's assistant and a medical doctor vampire in her own right) unlock the biological wing. She doesn't want to do it, but she does. As far as she knows, they haven't 'typed' her as an 'exotic' (paranormal human) yet and that's OK with her. But then four other big guys come trotting in with special little rifles.... Luna goes - Please, what are you gonna do?! You're not going to kill them, are you?!... But they don't answer. Luna sobs, as they trot in and out of all the habitats shooting every specimen in their path. Took a while. There's a lot of habitats. Specimens down at the end start screaming and crying. Staffers can't call out. All communication devices have been confiscated. None of the Bureau people are from Metro Philadelphia. That was done for security. But family members have been calling. It's been a few days and they want to know if everything's all right. Since all incoming calls go to the main phone number, the girl at the desk, a Special Ops woman, tells them about some routine lock down for inventory and trouble shooting. All the mommies and daddies and spouses and kiddies say 'OK, please ask them to call as soon as possible?' ... Special Ops woman says - Definitely. I will. Bye bye now.... But then her face gets all mean and hard 'cause she's Special Ops and all.
More black uniformed minions start pushing special gurneys into all the habitats, bigger ones for the North American Hominids, smaller ones for the merfolk, Jersey Devils, reptilians and other rare specimens. They've obviously been well trained, because they know how to properly fold Jersey Devil wings and wrap merfolk in specially warmed, moisturized cloths. Turns out none were killed, just sedated for transport back to a federal installation in Virginia. And all the while they're doing this, the piped in music system's been playing Smokey Robinson and The Miracles singing Going To A Go Go... Yeah, they're 'going' alright... straight into the back of big, black vans, straight out the Navy Yard and down I-95 back to D.C., or the Virginia suburbs of D.C., or somewhere like that.
Oh, one more thing, at the last minute they shot Luna too. Right through her lab coat. Right above the left breast. And the 'medication' worked, which meant they knew she was a vampire, because night-folk only react to certain, little known, ancient, aromatic potions.
We can only guess how the new president will use her.
But she wakes up fast and stars to cry. They have her swaddled like a baby in a hooded blanket, all tight, newborn style. The fabric's cold and metallic, woven from fine filaments of pure lead. Ain't no vampire can sublimate through that.
Special Ops guy guarding her, jabs her in the ribs with the butt of his rifle. She cries some more.... He mumbles - Shut up, you devil bitch. Then he makes like he's gonna slice her eyeball with a special lead straight razor... She shuts up...
They keep driving... a strange caravan of unmarked black vans...
Meanwhile, back in the Bureau, the staff is desperately trying to get out. But none of the exits work. Key cards won't work. Eye patterns won't work. Phones are still all screwed up. Heats off and it gets cold fast that far under ground and right by the river. People start yelling and crying. All forms of digital communication are dead.
And then the gas bombs go off....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click MASSACRE ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland, but when you get there, please also click on the 'subscribe' rectangle near the top right corner of the screen, because Feedreader changed things and that's how it seems to work now.
click SECRETS ... to join me on Twitter. Kindly consider leaving a comment? Thank you.
Our vampire hero and Doctor Benjamin Franklin talk in a basement level sitting room at the townhouse.
Franklin - They just came in. They just appeared. They had the right pass codes. They had the right cards. All 'special ops.' To me they looked like all special ops. But I don't know the difference. You know the type. Hard faces. They all have the same expression. I was three levels down. Somebody activated an alert. But by that point they already took hostages... five genetic biologists from Penn. Well, that's their cover. They do research at Penn. But what they really do is underground with us. And it was all so subtle. Were they not hostages, or were they? But what would you call it? They were surrounded by twelve God damned bastards with guns. Everybody else just hid... in closets... in storage rooms... in offices. No one wanted to be taken in a lab. No one wanted to be forced to share information. This is insane. We've always, more or less, cooperated with the government. They don't officially recognize us. We don't officially recognize ourselves. And that's it. It's always worked. For two hundred and twenty seven years, that's how it is. They didn't even mess with us during the Manhattan Project. Only one time... ONE TIME! And that was The Philadelphia Experiment, because no one else knew as much about harmonics as we did. Even then, they never came in with guns. I had to meet with them. I had to. There was this 'person.' I don't even know who he is. I don't know his name. I don't know anything.
JONATHON - What did he want?
FRANKLIN - Everything! He wanted it all. I said - Who wants it?... He smirked at me. Oh, I hate when they do that. I'm Benjamin Franklin, for God's sake! Without me THIS would all be 'Canada!'....
JONATHON - I thought you like Canadians?
FRANKLIN - I DO! But you know what I mean. Look, when it comes to 'America,' I'm the J.K. Rowling. I WROTE the God damned script! And that brainless tool, that soulless piece of machinery smirks at me?
JONATHON - What did you do?
FRANKLIN - I gave him the codes. You know the last time I did that? When the British came in eighteen twelve. Then it was on paper. Then it was the key to a written code. Now it accesses everything. Their guns were pointed right at me.
JONATHON - Did they know who you were?
FRANKLIN - No... I didn't tell them. They don't know I'm still around... 'Preserved by harmonics' - that's just a legend. Even F.D.R. didn't know. They think every Director here just takes the name 'Benjamin Franklin.'
JONATHON - So, there was no shooting?
FRANKLIN - No, there was... a little.
JONATHON - Who?
FRANKLIN - One of Luna's aides. He ran and locked himself in a closet. I know what he wanted to do. He wanted to call in the planes and have the place bombed. We got 'tacticals' you know. We have bombs that would take out the complex and maybe a block or two all around. God knows what it'd do to the river. Probably send a tsunami into Jersey. So they shot through the door and killed him. He was twenty seven years old. Just got married. I was there, The Downtown Club, right across the street from 'headquarters.' (Franklin always calls Independence Hall 'headquarters') And now he's dead.... They're all over the complex. More than just the initial twelve. I don't know how many. I didn't even see it. But the people up by the entrance said they came in vans... big black vans... a whole lot of vans. Mitzi heard. You know Mitzi, the girl from the welcome desk?
JONATHON nodded.
FRANKLIN - She heard them say something. They whispered. They tried to be quiet. But she's had her hearing artificially enhanced. She went deaf. We had to. Thought she'd wind up normal, but she's better than normal, much better.
JONATHON - What did she hear?
FRANKLIN - Russian...
JONATHON - Yo no lo creo.
FRANKLIN - Now don't you go all Spanish on me. Don't you go reverting back to all that crap. Not now!... Please.
JONATHON - I'm sorry. (ponders things for a few moments) I don't believe it.
FRANKLIN - The insignias were all American. The equipment. All of it.
JONATHON - How high do you think it goes?
FRANKLIN - My dear 'boy,' are you serious???
Neither one said anything for quite a while.
FRANKLIN - (pours himself a bit more vodka and continues) The whole place is in lock down. They're already accessing the computers. (exhales)
JONATHON - (quietly) Do they know about the 'annex?' Do they know about the Poconos?
FRANKLIN - I don't think so. The system up there doesn't interface with here. It's all independent... Thank God... Unless they start torturing people. Look, they've said that publicly. They believe in it.... You know, they're installing a lead room in Washington?
JONATHON - A vampire proof room?
FRANKLIN - Yes.... What world leader doesn't know about night-folk? They all know.... And the crowd roars. They can do no wrong.
JONATHON - What 'crowd?'
FRANKLIN - Not everybody, just all those 'concerned' and worried people who thought this was such a good idea.
JONATHON - Let me ask you something. How did you get out?
FRANKLIN - This is Philadelphia, dear boy. You know how many Franklin impersonators there are around here? I'm Mickey Mouse in the Old Quarter. A few are really good. I always keep an impersonator on hand... just in case... and today it came true... Our uninvited guests don't know everything. It's so easy to throw people off. I slip into the next room. They rush in to find me. But I'm not there... well, not the real me. The 'Bureau' has so many 'ins and outs'... a regular labyrinth... (he starts to sing This Land Is Your Land. This Land Is Your Land... then he stops)... Can you get me out of here? Can you get me to The Pines? I know you have people in the Jersey Pine Barrens.
JONATHON - (nods) I'll sublimate as soon as it gets dark.
FRANKLIN - And you're sure your aura will 'sublimate' me too?
JONATHON - If I carry you in tight. There's a harness... a canvas harness we can wear... like for tandem skydiving. It'll be cold, but you'll be all bundled up. If heights bother you, keep your eyes closed. I can give you smoked goggles if you like?
FRANKLIN - I want the goggles.
JONATHON - All right.
And so they sit there, waiting for the Earth to turn... a more than three hundred 'preserved by harmonics' year old scientist and patriot and a more or less thousand year old rather dashing, 'young' Spaniard, born into the physical world in The Caliphate of Cordoba.
'The world is so full of so many fine things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings' ... by Robert Louis Stevenson...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click THE REPUBLIC ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... but when you get there, you have to click on the 'subscribe' rectangle in the upper right corner of the screen to go on, because they changed things.
click WELCOME ... to join me on Twitter. please consider leaving a COMMENT. thank you.
Some nights I haunt the streets like this, especially late, snowy nights. I'm all in black... black jeans... black pea coat... waterproof black lace up work boots... matching turtleneck... scarf and black 'waxed' (waterproof) fedora.... trim, fur lined leather gloves too. At times I meld with the shadows. No one knows I'm there, even most of the cats.
I glide along, just above the cold surface. If anyone does happen to see me, they think I'm sliding, or 'street skating.' But there are no tracks. There are no foot prints. I can do that. When I sublimate through creation altitude is not important. Flying is flying. I pass through the air. I pass through snowflakes. They do not melt. They just go on.
Sometimes I whistle, not loud, but in a low and resonate manner. If people hear, I don't care. There are nights when I tail someone for quite a while. We skim the perimeter of silent, photogenic squares all covered with snow. The prey turns down some sporadically lit residential street. I turn too. We pass classic, pre war apartment buildings, coveted brownstones and beaux arts towers.
In PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK, the seminal screenplay Vampire Wonderland is based on, I lived up there, safe in a lofty redoubt. My name was Thomas (not Tomas) and I'm not Spanish, but the second son of a Scottish aristocrat. Please know that is fiction. This is not.
The prey slips into an all night coffee shop. I wait outside. Hidey-holes are everywhere. I don't fear the cold, or the rain, or the snow. There's a thing I do, a type of sublimation, that causes all manner of precipitation to evaporate before touching my clothing. So I'm quite dry and comfortable. I fall into a state, contemplating things from years ago. But when the prey leaves the warmth of that coffee shop, I move too.
You see, what I'm sharing here is another way I hunt and kill those souls unworthy of mortal life. During this stage of the pursuit I make no sound at all. Teddy Bears Picnic is a favorite of mine. Sometimes I whistle it, not loud, but I do. Am I repeating myself? If so, forgive me. Night-folk rarely think in a linear manner. Time is different for us.
The prey climbs the steps to his stylish quarters in a converted townhouse. I glide up too, not stepping on each marble tread, but rising up, as if on an incline, till he unlocks the door and steps inside.... But I pass through too.
There's no drama, no grand orchestrated dance. I merely restrain him and levitate up perhaps eighteen inches from the floor. When their feet can't touch a solid surface the whole thing is much easier.
I quickly drain him dry and let the body crumple down onto the black and white, checkerboard quartz tiles. Then I leave, not even waiting for the remains to ignite with a 'cold' blue flame. Should some one enter right after my departure, they'd think it a case of spontaneous human combustion. Believe me, that more or less, fictional occurrence veils many a vampire's feast.
Don't ask me what I'd do if interrupted whilst in the act. Does that happen? Yes, not often, but it does and I hate to think about it.
Thus is my life, or my existence, if you're picky about such things...
I pass through the thinly blanketed streets and leave no tracks. The snow stays clean and pure....
Ah, but the air feels good....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click SNOW ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... but another click on the 'subscribe' rectangle near the top right corner of the screen in necessary to go on... they changed things and that's how it is now...
click THE PHONE RINGS ... to talk to me and everybody else around here. please consider leaving a comment. thank you...
You see, what this blog is, is like a notebook. I record everything the vampires and other night-folk want me to record. They'll start telling a story, a recollection of what happened to them that night, or maybe centuries ago and then just go silent. That means they're already thinking about something else and that 'something else' might be a different long ago experience, or the quiet sound of a rooster coming from a TV that's left on because it's always left on. Vampires are like that. Years later they'll go back to an old story like they never left it.
Sometimes Jonathon takes me with him when he goes wandering through closed museums. We pass through darkened halls and galleries barely lit by tiny night lights. He likes dim illumination. They have rooms brought over from Europe and Asia piece by piece and reconstructed here. We sit in a medieval cloister originally from a French monastery. It's a series of rooms opening onto a square arcade. A low stone wall separates the arcade from what was once geometric flower beds surrounding a little fountain in the middle. Fountain's still there. Flowers are long gone. Now there's an authentic geometric design made from distressed looking stone cobbles. Little flickering, artificial candles shed an orange glow through the doorless rooms. We sit on the low stone wall looking at the dry fountain. During the hours when the people come, they play a low recording of tinkling water. But not now.
Jonathon starts saying something in a northern dialect of Vahmperigo. I can hear the romance words in it, but this is more like French than Spanish, so I just go 'uh huh' and let him talk. Vampires are proud of their languages. His is more like Spanish, Catalan and Piedmontese Italian with a few ancient words from a source unknown even to the vampires.
I ask him if any spirits ever come over with these reconstructed rooms. He shrugs. That means he's contemplating his answer. Sometimes he just contemplates and never answers. But not this time.... He says they don't usually do that, because the initial destruction of the site drives them away. Some pass on. Some wander. Though he says there might be a local ghost, maybe somebody from here who liked this exhibit (it's a permanent exhibit) and visited often. They might be here, especially if they lived alone and didn't have much family. They might come by.... I ask if there's one now.... He doesn't answer. That might mean 'no,' or one's here now and it's none of your business, or 'What? I'm thinking of something else.'
Jonathon already fed tonight. It was his time to 'cull' somebody. This time it was a lawyer. He's equal opportunity. Culls all types.... shyster doctors... shyster investment advisors... shyster politicians... violent haters... abustive people. I can't remember all of them. Tonight was a shyster lawyer. Guy took advantage of widows... trusting grown children beneficiaries, some of them handicapped. He was a real creep. Put an old lady in a home. Then he had a house sale and sold off all her stuff. Kept a seventeenth century Dutch painting for himself. Said it covered expenses. Chipped away at the rest of the estate real fast. You know how those 'expenses' can be?.... She died without visitors. Who would go, him? He never went. And she wasn't the only one. He got rich. They died broke and alone.
So now it was his turn to die. Jonathon sublimated into the right house. Found him watching some basketball game on TV. Oh, yeah, what an athlete. Let me tell you. He had a bet on it. That's why he cared. Sure, his team lost. Well, they won, but didn't make the spread. But he won't have to pay. Jonathon jumped out, pinned him to the floor and bit a whole mess of gristly tissue from his neck before he could even scream. Then the vampire, blood and gore still dripping from his chin, leaned down and whispered into Mister Lawyer's ear.... He said - Your time is up. The years are done. I've come to end your life..... Like a poem. That was it.... The guy squirmed. Tried to punch him. Jonathon quickly broke both arms just below the wrist, so that took care of that. The guy mewed like a little kitten, till he died ninety four heart beats later, when the last of his blood was gone. Jonathon's a fast drinker. Never say vampires 'suck.' They don't suck. They drink.
When done, he stood up and exhaled. Blood rush produced an all over hot flash. Steam rose from his body, instantly evaporating any bits of dried blood and gore. It's remarkable how clean vampires are. Soon the victim ignited into the 'cold' blue flame, like they all do, and disappeared.
Before he left, Jonathon 'liberated' a few substantial pieces of jewelry... a heavy, gold watch... a signet ring... and ninety five thousand dollars in cash, neatly packaged in nineteen, paper banded 'flats' (stacks of fifty, one hundred dollar bills). Of course there was a safe, but vampires have an extremely deft touch and can finesse their way into anything.
Even your throat....
Look, I was going to tell you a bit more of how they view and deal with winter. They love the longer nights, but suffer a heaviness brought on by the dense, cold air. Thoughts are somber and dark. Not so much at the beginning of the season. Then they like it. But as February and March drag on, even they hunger for a warm night breeze and the perfume of flowers.
Maybe next time?....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click NIGHT-FOLK .... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland. But we also have to click on the 'subscribe' rectangle at the top, right hand corner of the screen. They changed 'feedreader.com' to feedreader on line, or something like that. I STILL don't know all the particulars. But if you do as written, it'll get you there. Then it's all point and click or scroll down for more.
click CONVERSE ... to join me on Twitter. please leave a comment. thank you.
A snug winter night in the townhouse. Jonathon peeks through the draperies, taking in the icy drizzle. The cobbles shine like onyx. He turns to face Billy, typing away on his laptop. They're in the little library, a warm refuge. Billy works in a small pool of light from a genuine, ginger jar table lamp. Who knows? Perhaps it once belonged to a Mandarin prince? Our vampire hero, watches his mortal friend tap the keys.
He says - You do that every night. I read your 'Twitter.' I know what goes on. You work and you hope and when it doesn't happen, you work and you hope some more. Do you think they're ever going to help you? My God, don't you know by now? They don't care. You're invisible to them....
Billy - Not all...
Jonathon - No, not all. One or two. Maybe three of four. But think what you do. You mention and retweet people night after night after night who never even notice. Who knows if they notice? They never answer back. You hope for it. No, once, I take it back, Amy Schumer answered back. One time... and the timeline was jumping for weeks. A few words. A picture. I'm sure she's forgotten she did it. But she did. Alright, she did. Yet the others take it all in and never give it back.
Billy doesn't answer.....
Jonathon continues - I peek over your shoulder all the time. You don't even know I'm there.
Billy - I know you're there.
Jonathon - No you don't. You only know when I want you to know.
Billy - So why are you watching now for?
Jonathon - I just feel bad. I know how long you've been at this. What is it, six years? You have those guys, those directors and actors you tweet to. I don't know the names. The 'comedies,' the comedies, where everybody says 'fuck' more than they say 'the.' You retweet them when they ask for retweets. Sometimes you're among the first who do. And every few months you say 'Hey, if you get a chance, please click on my links and look around.'.... Do they do it?
Billy - How would I know?
Jonathon - You'd know. There'd be something. Once in a while you see them tweet to a name you don't recognize and think 'oh, look. maybe they do answer unconnected people sometimes.'... But then you google the name they're talking to and see it belongs to a guy with one and a half million followers. Have you ever seen them actually address somebody like you? I mean other than to belittle some dope over politics, or to retweet people with diseases or money problems, or a one word 'thanks' for desperate fans who gush over anything they do. Come on, tell me.
Billy (quietly) - No.
Jonathon - Then WHY do you do it? And that other one. That girl. That comedian. What's her thing? She says 'vagina,' 'vagina' and 'clitoris' all the time. Like the words to a song.
Billy - But she's funny. You saw her special. You even said she was funny.
Jonathon - But has she ever tweeted back even once? I don't care about her. I care about you. Well, has she? Has she ever helped you?
Billy looks at the keys, but says nothing.
Jonathon - They're worried about their own stuff. They're worried about their own projects. They're not gonna acknowledge you. What can you do for them? You can't even do little favors. You can't do shit.
Billy - Thank you.
Jonathon - No, I don't mean it like that. You have talent. My God, I could never tell this story like you do. You know how few blogs ever come close to four hundred thousand hits? Less than one percent. A fraction of one percent...
Billy - How do you know?
Jonathon - I asked that kid, the one from the computer classes at the library. They're open till nine. I get over there.
Billy - W-w-who does he think you are?
Jonathon - Who CARES who he thinks I am? You worry too much.
Billy - So I worry too much...
They sit in silence for a few moments...
Jonathon sighs and says - Here, I'll give you something. You never heard this. They like weird, stuff. Tell them this. There used to be a carnival that stopped around here maybe a hundred and eighty five, a hundred and seventy five years ago. A few Gypsy caravans, fortune tellers, sword swallowers, fire eaters, a sickening contortionist. I hate contortionists. And a whole bunch of crap like that. You could win a glass 'diamond' ring by tossing a little hoop over a wine bottle, or guessing a number on a crooked wheel of fortune. That got a wreath of wax flowers. I'd go and I'd watch them. Got friendly with the 'geek.' You know what a geek was? I mean the first meaning.
Billy - No.
Jonathon - Well, I'll tell you. They used to have a crazy looking guy. Ran out on the little torch-lit stage screaming and jumping and rolling his eyes. Ladies weren't supposed to watch. They'd go look at some grimy looking doxie make 'Japanese fans.' And this was always in the autumn. They'd come in the autumn. Chilly nights. People bought cider. Hard cider too. Ate hot, buttered corn on the cob. Stood around looking like smacked in the face idiots.
Billy - Where was this?
Jonathon - Where City Hall is today. They used to take down the gallows and let them set up. Everybody came. Coaches dropped off aristocratic couples, young bloods from the University. They didn't go home with glass diamond rings, or wax flowers. They went home with the 'clap.' But that's another story.
Billy - Did you cure them? You could have cured them with a drop or two of your blood. Did you do it?
Jonathon shrugs - The one's who deserved it. The ones I liked. Even cured the carnie girls too sometimes. But they just came back with a new case next year anyway. (loses train of thought) What was I telling you?
Billy - About the geek.
Jonathon - Ah, yes, the geek... They had him dressed up, or almost dressed up in torn scraps, dirty rabbit skins mostly. Maybe a dog's tooth choker 'round his neck. He'd screech like an ape and go berserk. And imagine, all torch lights. The whole carnival was all torch lights. Shadows dancing. Carnies paid local boys to run around with big galvanized garden pails to put out all the fires. Just little ones. Most never got too big. Then some roustabout would throw a burlap sack out onto the stage. Sack was filled with live chickens, all squawking and flapping. Geek got down on all fours. Starts sniffing around. Works his was over to the sack. Sits down. Lifts one out. A big leghorn. They were always big, white leghorns. White feathers made for more contrast... Chicken would beat those big wings. They knew what was coming. They could sense it. And chickens don't deserve anything like that. They're good souls mostly. Take care of their chicks. Count them all the time. Show them how to scratch up fat little bugs. If one goes missing the mother goes crazy. Even the rooster gets involved. God loves chickens. He'd rather we left them alone...But the geek is a big draw. He can't leave them alone. They're the reason he lives. Curls his right thumb and forefinger 'round the chicken's neck up by the head. Does the same with his other hand a few inches down. Brings it up to his mouth. Teeth all filed to points. He gnashes them a little bit. Lets the crowd see. Birds all manic by now. Feathers flying. Grab a feather at the geek show, get good luck. You know what they say?
Billy nods.
Jonathon - Then he grins, brings his jaws together. Carnie guy smothers a few of the torches. Doesn't want any apoplectic fits. Nothing too lurid. People dropped dead over anything back then. Everything was a big deal. Folks eating raw sushi would of wiped out half the town. Funny, raw oysters never did, though. Mortals are strange.... I have to think of something....
Billy - What do you mean?
Jonathon - We have to get those bastards to pay attention. To the blog, I mean. How many words do you have up?
Billy - Uh... eight hundred thousand words... Why?
Jonathon gives him a look - No reason....
Billy - So what happens with the geek?
Jonathon - He gnawed through five leghorn chicken necks. Bit through the feathers, the skin, the spine, all of it. Red blood. White feathers. Sports in the crowd, that means gambler types, bet how far he'd go. Held the heads up to the crowd. Beaks still snapping. Put one on each earlobe. One on each nipple. Hung the last from his upper lip. Soon as they clamp down they hold tight, especially once they're dead. That's how chickens are. Geeks were a big thing. They were cutting edge. Blood dripping down their chins. Eyes bugged out. Grinning and all. People remembered.... For an encore they'd bring out a newly hatched baby chick. Had to be a 'runt.' Human mouth isn't that big. Geek would carefully stuff it all in, look at the crowd. Face all distended. Could still hear it peeping. God knows what it thought. Five heartbeats later he started to crunch. Blood running out. Yellow fluff and all. Crowds love blood. You'd think they were the vampires. Carnie gives geek a jug of cider to help get it down. I once saw a geek die from a punctured esophagus. Convulsed a good long time too. Crowd figured it was part of the show. Carnie-king didn't tell them....
Billy - Wow.... And that's it?
Jonathon - That's it. Eating live chickens, or biting their heads off, was a growth industry back then. You could by stock in it.
Billy - For real?
Jonathon - No, not for real. I just thought you could type it up and maybe people might like it.
Then he put his hand on Billy's shoulder.
Billy - Thanks, Jonathon.
The vampire nods....
They switch on the little tv set among the books and watch an old black and white movie.
If you read this and know some famous bastards, please ask them to look at Vampire Wonderland...
What could it hurt?
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click WHOOPEE .... to see an assortment of Vampire Wonderland episodes you might want to browse through, or click OLDER POST down below to go back and see what you might have missed.
click HELLO WHO IS IT? ... to join me on Twitter. please comment. thank you...
In past posts we learned that among night-folk, this is the beginning of The Age Of Independent Actors. They've tried organized movements before. We've outlined some of them in Vampire Wonderland. But mass movements never last. People get bored, or just tired. It's no fun being cannon fodder and unless you are the leader, or among the chosen few, that's all you'll be. There's a reason why pawns are so numerous.
Yet things will still happen. History will be nudged and tweaked in many different ways. Vampires are a weapon. They cut with extreme accuracy. People just disappear. Nobody ever finds them. Nobody takes credit. That's it. Oh, stories get out.. a detail here... a night mare there. Puts the 'scare' into people.
I can't tell you who gets snatched. I can't tell you what they did, or who fingered them. But I can tell you it happens. And 'noble' vampires are doing it too. The ones who take vows. The ones who 'cull' the wicked. They got ways. Sometimes traditional vampire methods don't even enter into it. Hell, they get enough blood.
A lone life-eater will sublimate into a room, snatch up a victim and sublimate out. The energy, or 'the aura,' forms a halo all around them. Vampire holds on real tight. Just so the victim's inside the cloud. If they are, they pass through walls and everything else too.
Most start screaming. One minute they're snug in their bed, or some hotel bed in Washington, or probably New York (at least the American ones) and ten heartbeats later they're high above the city, up where it's nice and cold. Teeth start chattering. Vampire loosens up a second. Lets them slip a little. They scream some more. Vampire whispers - Scream again and I'll let go. Let me tell you, they don't scream.
We talk about 'independent actors,' but in certain cases two or three night-folk buddy up. They find a place, maybe a cave somewhere... a real hidden cave. Ones with lots of secret, little twisty turns are best. Don't take no blood. Kill other folks for that. This is something else. This is the Righteous Wrath of God. That's how they see it. Natural 'culling' would be too easy. Some don't deserve 'easy.' Get an old hypodermic needle, fill it up with muscle relaxer. Shoot it in the bastard's ass.... They go - What's gonna happen? What are you gonna do to me? Who ARE you?! WHAT are you?! ..... But the vampires never answer.
When the drug kicks in and the eyes start to flutter the pigs mumble. They say - W-what you do, poison me?.... It's awful dark in there. They can't see too much. Vampires carry cigarette lighters, for draggin' folks into caves and all. Maybe the vampire nods. Maybe they don't. This thing isn't about communicating. This is about taking action.
Bastard gets dumped in a little niche, or natural alcove. Rocks and mortar are all ready. They whimper some more. They pray. They beg. Offer money. Offer lots of money. Vampires set a little candle in there with them and light it. Then they just keep sealing them in... more stones... more mortar. You should see the look in their eyes before that last stone gets tucked in. Some don't say anything. Some moan. Who cares.
By the time the drug wears off everything's all dry and set. God bless that quick curing mortar. They get up. Try to find a way out. But there is no way out. You see, vampires don't get tired. That wall's probably three rocks thick. And when that candle burns out... when the last little orange pinpoint goes pffft that's it. They smash their heads against the rocks. Most curl up like an unborn baby, but they're not waiting for birth....
Vampires got other ways too. You come back tomorrow and I'll tell you...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click THE ARCHIVES ... to browse all episodes of Vampire Wonderland...
I slept through the actual Event. Being a vampire, that's a given. But It was still all over the television when I rose. I saw enough. He also assumed a 'burden' today. And do not think it's a light or easy one. I know about burdens...and you know about me. For those who don't, I am the life-eater, Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, a reverent, 'noble' vampire, who sought not this dark contagion, but transcended it. I take not the innocent. Indeed, discovering the 'noble' breed has been my salvation.... or my most recent salvation.
Many know I was born into a believing family in Old El Andalus approximately one thousand years ago. I play the oud and the Spanish guitar. I speak in the cadences of El Cid. We had a chapel in my father's house. Old Rabbi Abravanel, the chaplin emeritus of Elijah The Prophet synagogue in Sevilla rode out in a closed 'Roman' carriage every Sabbath Eve to lead us through the prayers and stayed the night to preach again the next day. How I loved the service, delivered in a mix of Hebrew, Andalusian Spanish and Arabic. When I sit still and all is quiet I can still hear it.
There's a part I'd like to share with you now, especially in light of today's important events. So, brethren, and I consider all righteous searchers as my brothers and sisters, let us consider Deuteronomy 24:14-15 and we begin... Thou salt not oppress a hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of thy strangers that are in thy land within thy gates.
In the same day thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it, for he is poor and his heart is set upon it.
That simple teaching means a lot. It means be a good 'boss'... be a good leader... be true to all. There are no strangers. That word is our creation, not God's. Would that America's new elected king (for that is what presidents truly are) know that.
And there is a passage in The Holy Book of Ishmael. Considering the land of my birth, I knew that too, a short couplet, but a vital one ~
And our Merciful God says ~
I created you as many nations and groups
so that ye may know each other.....
Sometimes I think this nation, America, is the land where that revelation truly came to be. Who is NOT here? What people do we lack? What creed prays not within our shores? This is the place where all become one, not blended into a featureless mass, but true and unique, like the sparkling facets of a diamond. I hope we all remember that. And may it be that we come to accept, love and respect each other. May we come to know each other as worthy brethren and beloved neighbors on this 'island' Earth.
That's all... The purpose of life is possibilities. What choices do we make?
I sit in my favorite room, the little library, as I write this. I listen to The Avett Brothers and I think. This has been a contentious year. While the inauguration might stop that, let us all stay true. Let us all remember our dreams. Let us all make this place, this America, a better place, but let us proceed without malice, contention,
or hate.
Had I not been burdened with this 'vampire' thing to save me from a martyr's death, I suppose I too would have been ordained. So permit me these moments at the 'bima' (Hebrew for preacher's rostrum, or 'reading table') and thank you for reading my words.
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click bit.ly/297pDxg ... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland then click on the 'subscribe' rectangle in the upper right corner of the screen. they who control this site changed it and that's how it works now.
Posts
