Golden Memories and Reflections of Septembers Past

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh so mellow...

Memories flood back on a cold September day. Of his mother's old LP record albums. He hadn't thought about them in years. Old LPs. The listening media years before CDs and eons before mp3s.

The voice of Harry Belafonte. He hadn't thought about Harry Belafonte in years. How he loved Harry Belafonte as a kid.

Try to remember the kind of September
when grass was green and grain was yellow...

one glorious Labour Day weekend on his uncle's farm. Indian Summer. The grass WAS green and the grain WAS yellow. How he loved walking on that green grass. And walking through fields of gold which the grain was. And the leaves on the trees painted Joseph's coat of many colours high above him...

Try to remember the kind of September
when you were a tender and callow fellow...

A September not so long ago it seemed when he started University and an endless future seemed to stretch before him like an endless ocean...

then follow
follow

Follow what? What was he supposed to follow?

Try to remember when life was so tender
when no one wept except the willow

How things have changed. With his father getting cancer and then passing away, it seems he has done nothing this year except weep. Weep until he was tired of weeping.

Try to remember when life was so tender
When dreams were kept beside your pillow...

A September not so long ago. Last September in fact. It seemed dreams were kept beside one's pillow. A new job. An exciting job.

Try to remember when life was so tender
when love was an ember about to billow

Ah, was he ever in love in September? Other months of the year he had fallen in love. But he couldn't remember a September.

Try to remember and if you remember
then follow
follow

Again? Follow what?

Deep in December it's nice to remember
Although you know the snow will follow

December? Where will he be this December? Will he be out on the street homeless? Because his dad's will wasn't found? And his witch of a sister will succeed in ignoring their father's wishes and sell the house out from under him to fulfill her desire for more money while he loses a home- the only home he's known since childhood?

Deep in December it's nice to remember
without a hurt the heart will hollow

Ah, the wisdom of Harry Belafonte. Everybody complains about broken hearts. But without that hurt at least once in a lifetime, the heart will hollow. It's only in being hurt but then at some point healed that the heart remains a human instrument. And not an artifact of hollow stone that doctors could excavate and remove like an archaeological find from one's chest.

Deep in December it's nice to remember
the fire of September that made you mellow

It is early September. What will the rest of September bring? Will this autumn be an Indian summer? Or an early winter? Will there still be patches of green grass? Will the golden grain be accentuated by a meeting of hearts- of hearts of gold! -and not the seemingly overwhelming production of hearts of tin?

Deep in December our hearts should remember and follow
follow.

Out there in the autumn fields of gold does there still fly that bright elusive butterfly of love that Bob Lind used to sing about on his mother's old LPs?

Qonzilqointec, James Cameron and Quentin Tarantino

James Cameron the director of Titanic and Avatar was sitting in his office reading a magazine.

"I can't believe it," Cameron threw down the magazine, "some people are claiming I got the plot for Avatar from the Disney cartoon Pocahontas. Where did they ever get that idea?."

Cameron's secretary approaches him, "Mr. Cameron, Dracul Van Helsing wants you to direct a TV commercial he's writing."

"A fellow Canadian and the noted vampire hunter," Cameron blinked, "where he would he get the money to afford me?".

"From the Aztec vampire princess Qonqilqointec," his secretary answered, "she'll pay you $500 million."

"All right," Cameron agreed.

"You're going to have a co-director for the commercial," his secretary said.

"Really?" Cameron blinked again, "who will that be?".

* * *

Quentin Tarantino the director of Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill was sitting in his office reading a magazine.

"I can't believe it," Tarantino threw down the magazine, "some people are claiming there's too much violence in my movies. Where did they ever get that idea?".

Tarantino's secretary approaches him, "Mr. Tarantino, Dracul Van Helsing wants you to direct a TV commercial he's writing."

"Dracul Van Helsing the noted Canadian vampire hunter," Tarantino blinked, "where would he get the money to afford me?".

"From the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec," his secretary answered, "she'll pay you $500 million."

"All right," Tarantino agreed.

"You're going to have a co-director for the commercial," his secretary said, "James Cameron."

* * *

"I just hope that too many chefs don't spoil the soup," Amadeus Emanon said as he threw the lobster into the pot.

"You just threw the psychic lobster Michelangelo into the pot," Renfield shouted, "get it out. Set Laboratories spent a fortune developing his psychic abilities."

Amadeus grabbed some prongs and removed the lobster and put him under cold water.

* * *

Examining the computer attuned to Michelangelo's thoughts, Dr. Cadbury Rocher looked in shock at the screen, "What an outburst of profanity from Michelangelo."



* * *

In the exclusive hotel room penthouse suite in New York City, the bell boy opened the door of the room.

And there seated on the sofa was the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec dressed in an exquisite black evening dress, black silk nylons and black spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

Across her lap was the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing who was being spanked on the bare bottom by the Aztec vampiress Qonzilqointec wielding a sturdy leather paddle.

On the radio, the voice of Larry King could be heard, "Our guest tonight is Anne Rice who will be discussing the unusual ways in which vampire novelists and writers in general are inspired to write their works."

To be continued.

Werewolf TV Commercial

"So, Boss," Renfield smiled, "you'll be doing a commercial for the new Qonzilqointec Electric Car."

"This is wonderful news," Set answered as he fed on a crocodile.

"Is that still alive?" Amadeus asked when he noticed the crocodile seemed to be snapping before going down the throat of the multi-billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire.

"The master likes his crocodiles very very rare," Athelstan the valet and gentleman's gentleman to Set answered.

* * *

The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and Dracul Van Helsing were in a hot tub together.

"So, any ideas for a commercial?" Qonzilqointec asked with her incisors sparkling as her head rose up out of the water.

"My, what sharp teeth you have," Dracul answered, "and yes, an idea for a commercial has come to me."

On the radio, Josh Groban could be heard singing the Don McLean lyrics, "Starry, starry night..."

* * *

With the full moon rising in the background, the werewolf looked at the camera and said, "So you're out on a hot date, you're about to get lucky with the girl of your dreams and she says..."

Girl In Red Dress: Darling isn't it a lovely full moon tonight?

Werewolf: And you say...

Boy (rising quickly out of the front seat of the convertible overlooking Lover's Lane): Oh, Jesus, a full moon...

(Girl in red dress screams as the boy turns into a werewolf)

Werewolf: Now you may have difficulty explaining to your loved one the sudden appearance of a full 5 o' clock shadow at midnight on a moonlit night so don't even try... Instead reach for your Gillette shaving cream and Gillette razor and start shaving away...

Boy (after shaving): See darling, your big bad wolf is just a college boy in sheep's clothing (for I'm wearing a wool sweater) after all...

Girl in Red Dress: Oh, Henry... (she throws him to the seat and mounts him)...

Announcer: Gillette, the best a man (or a werewolf) can get...

* * *

Qonzilqointec: I can't believe Gillette turned down your idea for a commercial...

Dracul Van Helsing: Neither can I....


To be continued.

Princess Qonzilqointec In New York City

Midnight. New York City. Down by the waterfront.

The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec seems out of place in her pale green evening dress, jade necklace and cobalt blue spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

A drunken sailor approaches her, "Excuse me but aren't you Salma Hayek?".

The royal personage Aztec vampiress bit the sailor on the jugular vein of his neck and drank all his blood and then threw his lifeless body to the ground, "No, I've just been told that I look like her."

As she looked down at the blood drained dead drunken sailor, she felt a queaziness in her stomach and said aloud to herself, "I should really stop eating junk food."

A policeman approached her, "Excuse me but I'm an Arizona state trooper on an exchange program with the NYPD and I demand to see some ID to prove to me you're not an illegal immigrant."

The Aztec vampire princess grabbed the policeman with her powerful arms and literally broke his neck.

"I'd love to see what you'd do to Glenn Beck if he was in the vicinity," a voice spoke to her out of the darkness.

"Christopher Dracul Van Helsing," Princess Qonzilqointec smiled a warm vampiric smile with her teeth and her incisors as she recognized the voice.

"Your Highness," the vampire hunter kissed her pale green gloved hand.

"I'm sorry about the death of your father," she hugged him.

"Thanks," Dracul hugged her back, "it's been hard."

"Being a vampiress, I don't think about such things," she looked into his eyes, "but there's always the possibility that a well-done stake could do me in."

"Or even a medium rare stake," Dracul answered.

"Indeed," the vampire princess laughed.

"So why have you asked to see me?" Dracul inquired.

"Well when I'm not busy planning a Marxist revolution with the likes of Venezuela's Hugo Chavez, the President of Ecuador, the President of Peru and the most likely future President of Brazil, the capitalist side of me likes to engage in investments," Qonzilqointec's red painted fingernails touched her jade necklace.

"Investments were never my field," Dracul answered, "I was a Philosophy major in my Undergrad years."

"But I seek advice about vampires," she said.

"A vampiress is asking me for advice about vampires," Dracul smiled.

"The thing is I've invested in a company that will make electric cars using a new long-lasting lithium battery," Qonzilqointec answered, "and I'm looking for a spokesman to do commercials for them. And I see in various tabloid newspapers throughout the world the vampire Set's chief of security Renfield R. Renfield is advertising that his boss would like to do TV commercials. I was wondering if you'd think Set would make a good spokesman for my product."

"Well I've never actually met the Vampire Set," Dracul confessed, "I've only run into a couple of his employees Renfield and also Amadeus Emanon. I believe you've met Set. What are your impressions?".

"He's one nasty individual," Qonzilqointec answered, "but I don't know if he could sell a car."

"Often it's nasty individuals who do sell cars," Dracul said, "along with mythical little old ladies from Pasadena who only drove the car once a week to church on Sundays."

Qonzilqointec smiled, "You're right, Dracul. And I understand you spent a year as an ad writer for an advertising agency. I want you to write the commercial."

To be continued.