My Lost Episode



I didn’t think twice when I saw it

The end of the season and the ritual incomplete

But you both had always been each other’s nemesis

What else would be new

So let’s see what a new season brings

Though I’m growing weary of the same routine

That wearing thin schtick


When I saw this episode in the towel I threw

I threw in the towel on watching anymore

Nine seasons would suffice

Actually more than enough

He could have died

Let it be written let it be done

Let it be

The demon made human

Interesting could have been his life

If the producers wanted to push it so

I wouldn’t have cared

Wanting him dead more times than I could count

In the way a demon dies

Relief and release

It should have ended and for me it did

You could have gone back to that place

The boys home

And to the one you’d fallen in love with

At sweet 16

Enough turmoil had passed for you to live your dream

Now was your time

And the series could have ended in dignity

As far as I knew

My opinion as such

But seasons march on

Without me

I’ve seen enough




Something Different Though Sunday Will Always Be For Vampire


“Was I a vampire in a past life? Why are mornings so offensive…” or at least I used to think so when I was younger. How I loved the night and never wanted the sun to come up. That’s definitely food for thought. Somehow over time I evolved to a day-walker. I love getting up early as the sun rises, even going out on the balcony to feel its warmth. I tan pretty good. Geez, why am I so groggy? Whatever I was in the past I know I wasn’t overindulging in blood last night. Sinus nosebleeds are bad enough besides I hate the taste of blood anymore. The blood is the life, ha, what does Dracula know anyway. They killed him he’s dead, so much for immortality. Yeah, if I don’t nod out typing this I’m definitely making coffee. Huh, when I yawn the keyboard gets blurry. Too dumb to go back to sleep… and I need another tissue. At least the coffee will cover the taste of blood running down my throat.”


Crazy thoughts or not but can I turn them into a story – forever the million dollar question.


What I know is I’m enjoying the cool breeze for now; later on it’s going to be in the 90s and I’ll get the espresso pot percolating shortly. My gosh I can’t stop yawning. That crazy dream I had last night. Was there a message? It’s lost if there were, I can’t recall it at all but I dreamt. I know I did. Had to do with that movie, the obsessive boyfriend-husband, his secret lock box, and not wanting to leave the lake they went to for their honeymoon, devil’s lake. Can’t help but wonder if he didn’t kill his father but the tension was building and I had to stop watching. Maybe I’ll pick up on it with renewed stamina, stamina. I’m so groggy


In media of in media res, realities blur, and the million-dollar question remains.

Sunday Is For Vampire


Grandma while Michael Jackson’s “Bad” is playing through the MegaMind credits: Would you like to see the video? It’s really cool. I have a lot of Michael Jackson videos, even the one called Thriller – Zombies dance with Michael Jackson.

Grandson: Don’t the zombies eat the people’s brains?

Grandma: Nope… they only dance with Michael Jackson.

Grandson: Is Michael Jackson human?

Sunday Is For Vampire But Right Now I’m Watching Dinosaurs With Sharks And The Loch Ness Monster On Deck

… marveling at man’s insistence at controlling a prehistoric animal. Four movies’ worth and he doesn’t learn similar to CEOs who just know their brand of embezzling is the winner and they won’t wind up in prison right up until s/he winds up in prison – remember when that was trending, from death, destruction, getting eaten, no surprise our taxes keep going up from all the damage, to someone training them through respecting them, possibly the key to making friends with raptors in particular getting to ride a dirt bike among them managing not to get eaten causing you to wonder is this finally the end? Can we stop making these movies now? The other cause for wonder is why the pterodactyl chills in a confined area instead of multiplying all over the earth destroying mankind. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who can leave the island.

But I love them, these movies, along with watching those educated Great Whites that terrorize a family even though each time the perpetrator – Great White in question – is blown to bits. Must be a family of sharks avenging the death of the last one lost, like when a Slayer dies another girl awakens as the Slayer. It’s her turn now. Vampires beware.

Who can resist franchise without end? Amen.

Sunday Is For Vampire


… And feeding dragons while I’m at it as Fat Tuesday approaches. Anyone going to Mardi Gras? Me neither, but one of these times I will get there. It’s like making sure you ‘get to Italy’ bucket list things… I will get to Mardi Gras. How hard could it be? We’re both in the same country… honestly. Traveling abroad was simpler.


Showered, feeling chilly with the heat from what was steamy wearing off and my wet hair distracting my attention. I’ll get a sweater and an espresso, put my earrings in (fill the holes in my head) while I’m at it. BRB.


That’s it; I’m getting up now… editing is the devil.


The sky is getting light and the espresso is fragrant, warming, steamy and sweet – something my son turned me on to in Italy. We sat in a café with our cappuccios and I watched him open a sugar packet or two and sprinkle it over the froth. Curiouser and curiouser but I’ve been a convert ever since…


Which vampire today? I don’t know but I’ve quite a collection from original black and white through 30 Days Of Night types or do I want moral, sappy ones trying to do the right thing, possibly classic  emotional drama queens – I mean, stop the whining Louis!


Ciao, ciao.



Something Apocalyptic


We’re supposed to be getting back to work after the holiday but the roads just aren’t busy. It’s as peaceful as Christmas morning in a heavy snow, that mysterious silence. Hmm… it’s not completely impossible the world ended and I slept through it. I mean, I wouldn’t put it passed me. Let’s see what outside looks like.


Well, I’d written that just after Thanksgiving and intended to add to it as a good morning type of post but I let it sit there, had a couple of thoughts about what I’d do with it possibly tying it in with something else I’d written, but ultimately let it sit there. I have to say that driving to return something at a store the other morning it was still desolate like something had gone wrong. My imagination went to ‘driving in an apocalypse’ although I think from another post I’d proven conclusively through statistics the Grim Reaper could wipe out an apocalypse and save humanity from that. Living in a college town when students are gone there is a big difference but not like this. One or two cars on the road, and it was the kind of cloudy that gives a post nuclear winter ambience. You know what I mean? I thought to myself people must still be recovering from New Year’s Eve celebration. But by January 2nd it should have been bustling, well, at least with those of us who still live here.


Maybe this can go somewhere. Let me think.



The First Thing They Teach You Is Never Assume



You know that’s the thing. If I had a nickel for every time someone figured I couldn’t possibly know anything when I visit his or her country. How could I not? Being an outsider you have to know more, where you’re going, how to get there and most importantly what to do when you get there. Take these two women for instance:


I’d flown in to this lovely little town in Northern Italy on holiday. For fun I thought I’d check out public transportation instead of shimmering around like usual, faster of course but as everyone knows public transportation abroad is top notch. I’d taken the funicolare, a tram that gets you up the mountain and then the bus to get closer to the upper city. These two women who were dressed to the nines and feeling no pain from what I could tell got on and were having trouble with the ticket dispenser. They looked at me and knew I wasn’t from around there automatically figuring there would be no way I could help not speaking their language which translated into I couldn’t know how it worked anyway. I watched them fumble and fuss though laughing at themselves the whole time until finally they gave up and sat down. I stood, went to the machine and retrieved the one ticket they thought they’d lost. Looking at each other they busted out laughing and said in Italian, you’re the one who’s not from here and you know how to work the machine – rough translation but you get it. The other walked to me, I showed her what to do and she got her ticket. When they got off they were both still laughing about how the person who didn’t speak Italian knew how to buy a ticket. I waved ciao, ciao and continued on with the bus then decided to shimmer off and fly around a bit. I noticed the two leaving a pub and flew in close to them to say hello. They were startled to say the least as I uncloaked myself and my ride, this big pussycat of a griffin with the softest fur, brooms can be a little uncomfortable – don’t know how they did it back in the day. In fact they stopped laughing and their jaws dropped. “Never assume” I smiled to them, scratched Pikachu behind the ear (yeah, he just loves watching those cartoons) saying, “let’s go”! He raised us up and I watched as one stepped back from the sidewalk stumble sitting into a puddle in the street as she kept staring up. The other hadn’t budged or taken her eyes of me. I laughed out loud as we disappeared behind the clouds.


That’s 10 cents right there. Of course if the exchange rate is still around the way it was or better yet the euro’s gotten more valuable over the American dollar, I could make 20, 25 cents for every time. Even half I’d be making out like a bandit.

Sending Out Coffee Emojis


“4am, past the witching hour on the way to morning. Sent coffee symbols to some, wish we could meet up for one but we’re at different ends of the earth for all intents and purposes. This will have to do. Typed far enough down that it’s safe to highlight the title without the system imitating the font. The world is my oyster; writing is good to go. How about that – the system preferred the semicolon there to the comma. Sure. This time.


And now


I’d like my sleeve to stop catching the end of the placemat. Kind of annoying when I type. So many things have happened.” Miggz sat back and stared out over the living room at the still-dark hallway. She’d checked the mailbox yesterday and found one last Social Security check which she considered a sign from the woman, the already dead woman, as a thank-you for stopping fraud and keeping her alive. “Rest in peace, hmmph. Here I thought that stuff you see in the movies is all imagination. Don’t tell me others have had the same thing happen… only they’ve got the money to ‘immortalize’ it on the silver screen. Immortal… aren’t you already immortal when you’re dead… how does that work? Doesn’t strike me it should negate itself. Not negative-negative. It’d be negative to die, minus the body then positive immortality is nothing because now nothing exists or is it exist somewhere else? Too intense, anyway, getting back to getting back… how do you go back and undo that or is it considered fair warning to those who’d try? Seemed a good idea to me…”


She noticed lights flashing and walked to the balcony doors. Below on the street a police car had pulled behind someone but the person didn’t look like s/he, whomever / whatever, was moving. The policeman shone his flashlight in the car window then knocked but still nothing. He radioed something in and tried the door. Locked. “That’s a deep sleeper.” She remembered what happened to a shop owner when she was a kid, her folks talked about it, lots of people talked about it in subdued tones because it was so tragic, who’d just opened a store and one evening driving home pulled over to rest being suddenly so sleepy and he died just like that. He was found on the side of the road. No one knew what could have caused it. “How could anyone know what had happened. There were no cell phones he’d be on, not in those days. OMG, was his wife with him! He had to pull over because he was tired and she couldn’t wake him. How terrible. This person now? I wonder… wouldn’t that be awful to happen again.” Something caught her eye. “There’s something… a shadow next to the cop. Is that a shadow? Can’t be, I can see it… not clearly. I’m not getting glasses. C’mon eyes, work! No one else got out of the car. What is that?” Foreboding surged through Miggz out of nowhere. “I’ve stopped stealing dead people’s social security… well, I only did it once, I learned… is it moving… toward me…?”



Where is this going? Good question because down the street Astrid and Natalie are frozen… not exactly frozen but statues trying to figure out how to escape before Agon gets back and now we know the solution is flawed, not what they’re thinking to escape not that each knows the other is thinking anything – they can’t speak because of the solution, the stuff that he used. Who knew this street was so interesting. I mean, you never know what’s going on behind closed doors, or in backyards for that matter.


Thought I saw something standing in the hallway. Oh, man…


She began to hear rattling in the background. A strong wind kicked up and was blowing the lights on the balcony causing a rattle – tap, tap, clack. There were voices. The people downstairs were still awake as if they were partying.  Now music. “Whatever that shadow is near the cop car maybe it’ll check them out.

Why is it so cold…?”




Off The Sinus Meds … Still



I’ve been afraid to go into that restaurant ever since that time. I mean, I hadn’t imagined it and I had lunch there just to see what there was. I don’t remember coming home but I had dinner, or I was having dinner. The next thing I remember was looking at everyone then looking at my table. It took me a minute to realize I’d been sitting there, where I was and the place starting to burn.


Guess no one minded I didn’t pay the bill… couldn’t from where I was standing, well rowing… whatever.


How did I get home?



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