Broadcasting from The Grave Rave…
Reporting directly is C.H. Scarlett…
Well my little darling, Darklings of Darkness, it has been a poltergeist of a week. A few little articles, steeped in the ink of my own blood, of course, caused quite a storm of fury. They were nothing, I thought, concerning religious tolerance, slash some Christian Witchery, slash some Satanic controversy, slash a dash of battle concerning the Warlock definition of all fearful-hysterias. But alas, my regular blog was jumping with furious readers who made sure to flood my inbox with deliciously, malicious intent.
Needless to say, I was shivering in my own grave with pure-untainted euphoria. Who knew so many people would get so riled up over an article explaining the harmlessness of Witch’s throwing the label of Christianity into their mix of titles? Who knew some people staked their life’s worth on the wrongful stereotypes of a Satanist being nothing other than devil worshippers.
Note: I am truly sorry to rip the need and worth of the Exorcists and those who are horribly suffering from demons, away. It was not my intensions to ease your fears. Ok, so I am not really sorry but can you feel my sentiment just the same, or not. *mischievous grin*
Aside from that, who knew so many people would throw down the kindling for me, not skimping on the gasoline either, just because I offered up a little research on the term Warlock. Don’t’ get me wrong, it’s not as though the smell of my own carcass burning isn’t delightful. *winks*
Meanwhile, in the world above my crypt of darkened bliss, the depression –oops, smack my mouth –I mean recession, is still burning brighter than a bonfire of sky clad Pagans. If the unemployment office becomes anymore crowded then I am pretty sure they will start charging a cover charge. After all, we live in a world of material savages who never pass up an opportunity to make a buck at someone else’s expense.
And if I could cry, then surely the tears of my blood would trickle, for even we, those who frequent the halls of the Crypt Keeper’s torture chambers are feeling the tight burn and clinch of being, well, flat busted and broke.
Want examples? I am starting to recycle my own cobwebs and the zombie’s have resorted to gnawing on their own arms. The Vampires can’t afford to hunt anymore since drinking from undernourished humans is just downright depressing as well as unfulfilling. So now, they are trying to squeeze blood from turnips.
Please don’t laugh.
I spent all last night trying to pull the things out of their mouths after they got stuck in their fangs.
Please don’t laugh.
There is nothing funny about jerking turnips from the jaws of a bloodthirsty vampire. There is also nothing funny about their fangs jerking out with the turnip, because they too, are malnourished. Malnourished but not broke for even the Vamps have a keen plan.
In fact, I can report that some of our vampires have started a new craze and frenzy in Hollywood among our most fabulous starlets. They wrote a book on how to lose weight from a new diet, strictly made of turnips. They will be having their own show on the cooking channel, 1001 Sinful Ways to Cook Turnips and later tonight, one of our Vamps will be on the Larry King show explaining how you too, can afford groceries again by converting over to the Turnip phenomena. You won’t even have need of health insurance since they are maliciously nutritious!
So please look for their new spiritual and uplifting book as well as diet called, Squeezing blood from a Turnip: Who says you can’t? Well, I said they can’t but then again, I’m the one playing Vampire dentist here.
Well my little darkling, Darklings of Darkness, it is time that I leave you. I will see you next month with a new report or you can linger by my blog and catch whiff of what I am slaughtering up for the day. It is strip poker night, here in the Crypt Keepers den and unfortunately, while the Vampires are all out trying to enlighten the world, I am stuck with the Werewolves again.
You are jealous, you say?
Please don’t be.
There is nothing worse than playing strip poker with a bunch of Werewolves who are now so poor because of the recession; they have started crunching on deep fried tofu. With every strip of my bewitching and very Elvira-looking garments, their mouths water just a little bit more. And it isn’t because I am that mesmerizing either. It’s because they are delusional with hallucinations, imagining my leg is a chicken bone or my rump is a succulent rump roast. I am pretty sure they are cheating too…ruthless little flea bags that they are. I still adore them, though, but somehow the turnips and the bloodthirsty vampires are severely missed.
Until then… have a happy Ostara…
The Fairies do warn that they want their offerings laid out for them. Yes, they are hurting to and if you don’t they will reap mischief. I love fairy mischief, so Ostara or not, don’t leave them a thing!
See you in the Grave!