Do to an issue with Google still showing my older posts after I removed my typepad blog, I will be reposting some posts through wordpress to kick the search engine in the ass a bit.
Zombos Says: Very Good
“More hot chocolate please,” I said to Chef Machiavelli.
He put down the large and very sharp looking knife he was using to fillet the eel for his incredible eel livornese and refilled my cup. His hot chocolate is exquisite; filled with little lumps of white vanilla, a little anisette, and lots of dark, sweet
chocolate. It’s the perfect warmer-upper. I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for the plumber to find the problem with our recalcitrant boiler. He was sure taking his time.
“I will take a cup, too,” said Zombos joining us to bask in the warmth coming from the brick oven. “I wonder what’s taking the plumber so long.”
“You did give him the map?” I asked.
“Yes, of course. I do not want to lose another plumber down there. They are skittish as it is. Lucky for us this fellow is new.” He sipped his hot chocolate.
It was so hard trying to get plumbers to come out to the mansion; even harder keeping them once they saw our basement. The labyrinthine passages and rooms below us would give even Erik, the poor suffering Phantom of the Paris Opera, a run for his money.
While we waited, I looked at the long, gleaming knife Chef Machiavelli was using. I found it fascinating that a sharp implement can slice through atoms and molecules, severing their tenuous connections so easily—and the whole concept of self-sharpening was beyond me.
“How is the time doing?” asked Zombos.
We looked at our watches.
“Merda!” cursed Chef Machiavelli. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his eel-skin wallet. He handed Zombos five dollars.
“I’m still good,” I said as Zombos tucked the fiver into his shirt pocket with a grin.
“We will see about that,” he said.
We had placed bets on when the plumber would be done and Chef Machiavelli’s chosen time had passed. I was still on target, though. I crossed my fingers. I really hate losing a bet to Zombos: he was rich enough.
“This wagering reminds me of that horror movie, Castle of Blood, where the journalist bets he can stay in a haunted castle for the night,” I said.
“I remember that movie.” Zombos sipped his hot chocolate. “Barbara Steele is in it.”
“Yes, and gamboling fog as the journalist enters the Poor Devil Inn—how apropos,” I continued. “When he comes upon the table where Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli) and the owner of the haunted castle are discussing the reality of the supernatural, he can’t help but listen and take the wager of staying overnight in that place where no one has survived the stay. Soon they’re off to the castle and the journalist’s misadventure with the undead begins.”
…
Tap Dancing to Hell and a Pot o’Gold Part 1
The Living and the Dead
Castle of Blood (1964)Read More »
