Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better
Showing posts with label Kristen Stewart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kristen Stewart. Show all posts

Monday, February 21, 2022

Bloody Mistakes All Around


Weird And Pointless Celebrity Couple Drink Blood, Real Bloodsuckers Annoyed

Los Angeles (AP) In a world where Hollywood can also be called Hollyweird, few things are shocking. But many things are weird. Such as why Jennifer Aniston keeps getting roles. Who keeps greenlighting reality shows and music competitions for television. How Steven Seagal lasted as long as he did before vanishing into oblivion. Tom Cruise doing... well, pretty much whatever he does. 

And then there are the pointless couples, devoid of talent, who have to resort to trying to shock the audience.

Actress Megan Fox and rapper Machine Gun Kelly (yes, it's a stupid name) recently announced their engagement. 


Fox is best known for appearing in Michael Bay films (which speaks volumes of her lack of talent) and plastic surgery alterations. Kelly walks around with a dazed expression that suggests he's suffered from severe brain damage and whatever passes for his brain got dislodged. If they ever reproduce, they'll have dragged back the progress of evolution.

Weird enough to start with. And it got weirder.


It started with the two openly talking about carrying around vials of each other's blood. Now with the engagement, they've claimed that they've actually drunk that blood.

Yes, you've read that right. 

Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly are claiming to be blood drinkers. 

Can they be called vampires? Probably not. Sampling one bodily fluid of the significant other you're with does not make you a vampire. After all, it requires death and becoming the undead, a craving to consume the blood of anyone in your reach, and a tendency to sleep in coffins and avoid sunlight.


And yet they went ahead and did it anyway. Weird. 

Real vampires are dismayed by the headlines. Speaking to this reporter by Zoom, Count Anton Vordor- official spokesman of the Nightwalker Society, as they call themselves- was irritated. "We've spent centuries developing a reputation and a legend as fierce and fearsome creatures of the night. We are cursed and blessed, depending on who you talk to, with eternal life, with certain conditions. Among which are never seeing the sun again and an aversion to wooden stakes. But that's beside the point."

He paused before continuing. "The point is we have had, from time immemorial, been feared by the world at large while we've stalked the night and taken what we need to feed. But now?"


Vordor put up his hands in an expression of dismay. "Now we find ourselves being portrayed on screen as sparkling nitwits with nothing to do with our time but hang out with sullen teenagers and sneer at dog boy werewolves. Do you have any idea how much damage those idiotic books and films did to our reputation? I assure you, there's been a lot of it. We've spent years putting up with the laughter of werewolves at group summits. As if they weren't also disparaged in that franchise. But no, we were far more sullied by that halfwit writer."

"Ever thought of going after that writer for doing it?" this reporter asked.

"What for? The damage is already done. Besides, the consensus among us is that her blood would leave a bad aftertaste of mediocrity and sour apples."


"And this whole Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly drinking each other's blood?" this reporter asked. 

"Rubbish," Vordor replied. "Just like they're rubbish. One of the benefits of eternal life- and I should say at this point that I've managed going through 1492 years as a vampire without running afoul of a wooden stake- is that you see how fleeting fame is. No one in a century will remember either of them. Oh, people are going to remember the Beatles. But immortality through your artistic talent doesn't happen when you don't have talent. And these two don't have talent."

He shook his head. "Real vampires don't do sentimental nonsense like this. We don't start like this. We don't live like this. But honestly, we've spent years doing damage control because of Twilight, and now we have to put up with the ridicule of being compared to two vapid buffoons like this? Totally unacceptable. It makes you want to call in a tip to the Van Helsing family and tell them those two actually are vampires."


Ella Van Helsing, present day head of the vampire hunting clan, had her own take on things. "First of all, Count Vordor has his day coming. Second, we bloody well know that Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly aren't vampires. They're many other things. Profoundly stupid. Wastes of oxygen. Screaming for attention prats. But they're not vampires. And we don't do freebies because real vampires are crying about their reputations being sullied."

Saturday, March 10, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Mobster

I have something different today, the point of view of a gangster. I still haven't decided if he's a snitch.


7:25 AM. Awake at home. Having breakfast. Hot coffee and toast. Well done, just the way I like it. The wife’s off in the Caribbean somewhere. Gotta look up where, sooner or later. Theresa said something about tans and beaches and margaritas, I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention….


7:53 AM. A last look at myself in the mirror before I head out the door. Crisp grey suit, matching tie, black shirt. Jeez, I’m starting to look like a stereotype of the job.


7:55 AM. Stepping out my front door. Nico and Lorenzo are waiting by the Rolls. Hey, fellas, how the **** you doing? You do know I can drive myself, right?


7:56 AM. Nico tells me Don Bianchi wants to see me right away. The boss himself? Wow, I wonder what brought him all the way here from Sicily. Okay, fellas, so let’s get moving already.



8:20 AM. Nico and Lorenzo walk me into the coffee warehouse. That’s what we call the place anyway. Bianchi Coffee. Not that we actually move coffee, and the cops know it. Knowing it and proving it are two different things, you know what I’m saying?


8:21 AM. Finding myself in the back office, where Don Carlos Bianchi is waiting in person. The capo di capi of the whole organization. Don Bianchi, it’s an honour.

Something seems off. The don doesn’t seem pleased to see me.


8:23 AM. Nico and Lorenzo have put me down on a chair. Hard. And they’re looming behind me like the three hundred pounds of hired muscle that they are. Don Bianchi accuses me of ratting to the cops. I’m horrified by the accusation. I mean, come on, Don Bianchi, what kind of low down rat would talk to the cops? I mean, sure, they call me Joey the Rat, but that’s an ironic name! I have no idea who squealed to the cops and got your grandson thrown in jail for the next thirty years, but if I knew, I’d have already whacked them, bada bing bada boom! You of all people know how safe a secret is when it’s kept by me. I mean, I’ve never told anyone that Nico is banging Lorenzo’s wife and Lorenzo doesn’t even…

Oh, ****, did I just say that out loud?


8:25 AM. Don Bianchi tells Nico and Lorenzo to stop hitting each other. They stop, and then he makes a hand gesture. Before I know what’s happening, I feel an impact to the back of my head, and everything goes black.


11:14 AM. Coming to. Feels like everything is moving. Opening my eyes. Looking around. Assessing. Looks like I’m in a plane cabin. A small plane. Hands tied behind my back. Lying on the floor. Nico is over there. Lorenzo is in the other direction. Both of them aren’t looking at each other. Hey, fellas, a little help here, you know what I'm saying?


11:28 AM. Nico and Lorenzo haven’t said much of anything to me, aside from telling me to shut up. Come on, fellas, so I slipped up about the whole thing with Nico screwin’ Giulietta, so what? These things happen. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had some action on the side myself while my Theresa isn’t paying attention. Now where were we? Oh, right, how about you untie me and we let bygones be bygones?


12:03 PM. The pilot calls back to Nico and Lorenzo. Says we’re out past the limit and depressurized. The limit of what? Come on, fellas, you know me. You know I would never have ratted to the cops. I mean, there’s that whole code we have. The omerta. Code of silence. We’re mobsters. We don’t rat each other out. At least to the cops. Sorry about the whole ratting you and Giulietta out thing, Nico, but it was an honest mistake. My point is there’s a big difference between slipping up and letting Lorenzo know his wife has been cheating on him, and giving the cops evidence to put away Paolo Bianchi for drug trafficking!


12:05 PM. Nico and Lorenzo help me up to my feet. It’s about time, fellas, so go ahead and untie me already, my wrists are sore.


12:06 PM. Lorenzo moves forward, while Nico’s hustling me by the arm from behind. I stop when I see Lorenzo opening up the cabin door. I hear the roar of the air outside coming. It suddenly hits me that this is a one way trip for me. Now wait a minute, fellas… let’s not lose our heads here.


12:07 PM. Nico starts pushing me towards the open door. Come on! Look, we can make a deal, right? I’ve got money. Us three, fellas, and hell, even the pilot. We can make a ****ing deal. Hey! Lorenzo, I toasted you and Giulietta at your wedding, remember? You honestly telling me you’re gonna whack one of your wedding guests?


12:07:32 PM. Nico and Lorenzo push and pull me closer to the door. One last glance outside at the big void of empty air. Looks like we’re five thousand feet up. Lots of ocean down there. Oh, ****, come on fellas, couldn’t you have just put two bullets in my head bada bing bada boom? That would have been merciful!


12:08:17 PM. They’ve got me right at the threshold. I can feel the wind against my face. Hands tied up behind me, can’t grip anything… Nico yells in my ear that I should know that Theresa is ****ing that trainer at her gym. Wait a minute… my Theresa is banging Randy ****ing Walden???


12:08:29 PM. Two pairs of hands shove me out the door. I feel myself falling straight off, hurtling down towards the ocean. Wondering if I’ll lose consciousness before I hit. Wondering how bad the impact will be. Wondering how the **** I could have missed the fact that my wife is ****ing her trainer. Wondering if she’s banging him right now wherever the **** she is. I mean, that ****ing idiot Walden??? What’s he got that I do….


12:10 PM. A moment of blackness. Opening my eyes. Finding myself in a fire and brimstone kinda place with guys with red skin, carrying pitchforks and bullwhips. I think this is hell, you know what I’m saying?

**** that! Joey the Rat Falcone was supposed to end up in the other place!