Dandy Darkly

Wicked Little Town (part two)

Welcome back!

It's cold for early October. I'm shivering 86 floors above Manhattan on the Empire observatory deck wearing only a sweater and slacks. Suffering so I may highlight some of this super(natural) city's most infamous neighborhoods. I hope you recognize my sacrifice as you sip hot cocoa, draped in your Snuggie, an unseen presence reading over your shoulder. "Unseen presence?", you scoff.

Trust me. It's there.

Did you also know the best neighborhood in which to raise a family is the beautiful Upper West Side. There's a minority owned, organic grocery on every corner and an abundance of pet boutiques. Young mothers (on maternity leave from their fulfilling, high powered jobs) attend infant and mommy yoga classes, while making time for shopping, laundry and being their daughter's bestest friend ever! The brightest kids in America benefit from the bilingual preparatory academies and a vast selection of wholesome after school activities. And all the children are gifted! The fathers are creatures of a new era, men able to succeed in the kitchen, boardroom and especially the bedroom. And every very happy family owns a spacious brownstone with original interior accents, hard wood floors and some form of a delicious, nasty secret hidden away in the attic, screaming to be released for all the subtle amusements of their very happy and very competitive neighbors. And once such a family shame is let loose, the nightmare in plain sight of the Upper West Side is revealed. Paranoia, gossip, knowing smiles at the organic market, picking through one's trash for more tidbits of salacious information, all forms of social cannibalization followed by subtle (yet totally obvious) group shunning.

"Why didn't the Michaelsons invite US over for Trivial Pursuit night?"

"You HAD to have one more glass of wine and talk about little Timmy's condition!" 

And once the ostracized family has no more anguish, no more shame, nothing else for the "alphas" to savor... they somehow disappear. The herd has been culled. Perhaps jackals took them away in the middle of the night? Instantly a social void is formed that must be filled. Perky real estate agents with fresh baked cookie scent appear on the scene. "Available: 5BR/2.5BA UWS Townhouse. GREAT Find! Original Details! Amazing View! Great Schools! NO FEE!!!!" A drop of blood on the floor or a small crack in a window is easily overlooked when the promise of the American Dream is so very close. Another career mom, another sensitive dad, another pair of gifted children and a puppy named Rex or Poncho move in right away. And the process starts all over again. 

Some folks say the Upper West Side elite are psychic vampires. Others swear they're praying mantis people. Only the foolish know them as their neighbors. 

Further down the West Side of Manhattan, the sterling white teeth of the Upper West Side are out shined by the luminescence of New York's famed Broadway theater district. Dreams can come true on Broadway, nightmares too. Every night cabaret acts can be found where any audience's fancy will be staged for the right price. There's a never ending supply of chorus boys and starlets eager for their big break - broken bones included.

And when the dazzle of Broadway's shine leaves you thirsty for something less family friendly, look no further than Times Square. This is where those previously mentioned, bruised starlets go when the more reputable venues will no longer showcase their classical talents. There they stand, on every street corner, eager for another audition - another chance to impress a daddy figure, to be told they're good enough. The Void is their pimp now, and it's a mean sonofabitch when the girls come up short. Fans of games of luck can also find ample opportunity to part with their cash in Times Square. Sports betting, card games, illegal gambling and pit fights (man versus man, animal, monster and anything in between) exist in every bar backroom.

Times Square is the cancerous heart of the city. It beats irregularly as a nonstop flow of taxis, buses and pedestrians choke it's filthy, crowded corridors. And high above the litter and human trash of Times Square, in a world of steel and glass, a powerful cabal of suit wearing wizards view the chaos beneath them and manipulate all assortment of details to their direct advantage. From the worth of foreign currency to next Fall's television line up, nothing that has a discernible value is left to chance. The CEOs and Presidents of these multi national conglomerations consider themselves modern era gods and goddesses. But even deities face termination when a potential trend is not noticed or an opportunity for expansion not seized upon. Everyone in Manhattan has a higher power to pay tribute to.

Monday I'll continue my third segment of mystic Manhattan with a gay jaunt to the Chelsea bio-hazard zone. Mutant plague sucks, ya'll! And we'll meet the descendants of the original founders of Manhattan, the Green Witch Coven.

Legend has it they bought the whole island for a few magical buttons. It's true!

Bricks and Blood

It was London, and I was twenty two or twenty three. I managed to crawl across the bedroom floor towards the prone form a guy around my age. I pried his mouth open with both my hands. He twisted his head and attempted to vomit blood upon my face. Hateful!

We were both exhausted from our prolonged wrestling match, but I’d managed to pin him with a few secret words – and a lot of rope. And now the ugly part… I hefted a b rick and slammed it into the open orifice. Teeth, blood and rubbery skin mashed in a disgusting crunch. And then four more crunches as I hammered the block of stone deep into his throat. He stopped convulsing and finally laid still.

No stake through the heart. No crosses. He didn’t turn to dust. He didn’t evaporate when I opened the window to let some early morning sun into the room. Instead I dragging the body to the lower floor of the Tottenham flat, retrieved a shovel from my equipment and buried the fiend facedown in his own backyard. And then set fire to the hovel in which he’d digested a baker’s dozen of tramps and almost yours truly. 

So that’s how you kill a vampire in the real world. I’ve only taken out two, but both were extremely arduous affairs. I much prefer exorcising non-corporeal entities. Whereas the “science” behind banishment has evolved over the centuries, the means of bludgeoning a bloodsucker really haven’t. I was reminded of my efforts by a recent article in NewScientist which detailed the uncovering of an ancient skeleton believed to be one of the first vampire killings:

(Italy) A SKELETON exhumed from a grave in Venice is being claimed as the first known example of the "vampires" widely referred to in contemporary documents.

Matteo Borrini of the University of Florence in Italy found the skeleton of
a woman with a small brick in her mouth while excavating mass graves of plague victims from the Middle Ages on Lazzaretto Nuovo Island in Venice.

Borrini says his study details the earliest grave to show archaeological "exorcism evidence against vampires".

You can find the article (and additional photos) in it's entirety here. Mr. Borrini, be extra wary you don't let the right one in should a mysterious stranger come knocking at your door.