Burning Question #29: Fortune Cookie

Only Thirty-one Burning Questions to go in the Fifty Burning Questions Festival.

When I was a child I used to absolutely love going to China Town in San Francisco. Yes, I was a tiny shy white child with wide eyes taking it all in. I thought it was the most wonderful place ever.

chinatown-san-francisco-late-19th-century-artist-john-l-stoddard

Fortune Cookies have a long and colorful history. Look it up on Wikipedia. They started out as Japanese cookies. During the Japanese internment during WW2 the crazy little cookies started to show up in Chinese restaurants.

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Once in the 1970’s a friend of mine gave me a “dirty” fortune cookie. The fortune read: Girl chase boy around church and catch him by organ.

fortune cookie

For centuries people have been looking for ways to see their futures. They’ve thrown bones, looked into crystal balls, gone to charlatan psychics, read tarot cards, and done all kinds of weird stuff. But the sweetest of all, and the most fun is the Fortune Cookie.

So is it just a chance encounter with a random slip of paper, or is there another more celestial meaning?

Burning Question #29: What is it to open a cookie without a fortune? A simple machine error? Or a profound statement of the uncertainty of the future?

 

 

A favorite game is to have everyone read their fortunes and add the words in bed after the fact.

  • Success will come to your plans in bed.
  • Use your abilities at this time to stay focused on your goals in bed.
  • You will always be well liked and popular in bed.

Anyway you fold it, fortune cookies are both fun and maybe profound.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

1877

San Francisco 1877

You can be you

All hail

The mysterious

Vampire Lord

God almighty

I am bored.

 

My friend Cody is fairly new at being a Vampire. He was “converted” in 2012. Needless to say it was quite an unexpected experience for him. One minute he was driving down the coastal highway, and the next minute his crazy girlfriend was turning the wheel of the car and they were flying off of a cliff down into the Pacific Ocean.

They were rescued by Vampires and the rest is history for my former Silicone Valley friend.

Cody has adapted better than most. He has adapted extremely well.

There are times though when my young friend will do things out of habit, or comfort.

He buys fortune cookies just for the fortunes. Of course he doesn’t eat them. That will cause stomach cramps. He gets them for the fortunes. You know those little slips of paper that say things like: You will bring sunshine into someone’s life or Tomorrow your creative side will shine forth with exceptional ideas.

Cody has been coming over to watch “The Alienist” with us on Monday nights. By the way, next Monday is the last one.

If you haven’t been watching this is the story (I stole grabbed this description from another web site.)

The best-selling book by Caleb Carr is the basis for “The Alienist,” a psychological thriller set amidst the vast wealth, extreme poverty and technological innovation of 1896 New York. A never-before-seen ritualistic killer is responsible for the gruesome murders of boy prostitutes, and newly appointed police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt calls upon criminal psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, newspaper illustrator John Moore and police department secretary Sara Howard to conduct the investigation in secret. The brilliant, obsessive Kreizler is known as an alienist — one who studies mental pathologies and the deviant behaviors of those who are alienated from themselves and society. His job, along with his controversial views, makes him a social pariah in some circles. But helped by a band of outsiders, Kreizler’s tireless efforts eventually answer the question behind what makes a man into a murderer.

You need to check it out just for the costumes. No BS half assed stuff that is so historically inaccurate that it will make your fangs hurt. No over done make-up or modern hair styles on the women. It is visually wonderful. We’ve been sucked into the characters and story as well.

Anyway, Cody mentioned that one of the main actors, Luke Evans (of course he is Welsh, just like my Welsh ancestors who had the same last name)… Luke Evans also played Vlad/Dracula in the movie Dracula Untold. I’m not sure what Dracula was supposed to be told in that story, but apparently someone forgot to tell him what it was. By the way, Luke Evans is great in The Alieniest. I hope to see him in more films/TV in the future.

Then Cody asked, “How come you don’t have all of the people you’ve turned into Vampires calling you their Vampire Queen or Vampire Mother?”

“Because it doesn’t work that way,” I said.

There are bands of Vampires, just like there groups of any type of people with leaders and followers. Most of us just live our own with friends and family. Sure it might get weird to some people, but seriously, I’m living in 2018. I’m living in California in 2018. I’ve never seen a Vampire Lord, or had to deal with someone longing for the days everyone had blood dripping off of their chins and shit like that.

We wear jeans, and flannel shirts, and have access to fortune cookies.

I’m a mom, not Vampirella. I don’t want to be Vampirella. That little weird red swim suit kind of thing she always wears looks really uncomfortable. Besides that her taste in men is horrible.

Vampirella

Seriously, can you imagine wearing this to the hardware store, much less picking your kids up from school in this?

We’re modern Vampires. Just like any modern person, we live in this world. Save the cosplay for the weekend.

Like the song says: You can be you. I love Saint Motel.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

Vampire Diary: Fortunes and Cookies

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Dear Diary,

The rain has started again. Even Vampires are unable to see through the windshield of an automobile when it is raining.

My old friend Randolpho came over to help me put new wiper blades onto my car. He was wearing his tall hat. I told him that it is not the fashion now. He said it was always the fashion because he, as a Vampire, made the fashion. Then he said something about someone called Slash who also wore a tall hat. Who is named Slash? I asked if he was a serial killer or an actor in horror movies. Randolpho said Slash was a killer guitarist. I asked if this Slash person was in prison. Randolpho looked at me in a confused manner and stopped talking. I did not pursue the line of conversation any longer.

I can now drive in the rain and see the road.

I think of guitarists and wonder how many are killers. I asked Randolpho about it. He said there was a band of musicians called The Killers but they do not kill. He said he thought at least one of them might be of the Mormon faith and from Las Vegas. He said The Killers were one of his favorite bands. He said a lot of great bands are from Las Vegas. He said so was Wayne Newton but he did not like the way Mr. Newton sounded like a girl. I had never heard of this Wayne Newton. I did not ask any other questions on the chance my head would explode.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After being trapped in a crypt for three hundred years I still have much catching up to do. I often have the expectations that everything has changed. Unfortunately I must report that some attitudes and barbaric practices still exist. How superior “Modern” society thinks it is when in fact it is not. I do not understand why.

There is only one young woman living on my street as my neighbor. There were two others who have gone away to study at universities. The one left, with the name of Kylee, is going to a place of higher learning a few miles away. I am impressed that young women are now going to such places of great thinking to learn to be leaders.

I tell them all to watch out for men who would prey upon them. As a Vampire it is my duty to protect those in my life I care for. I find my heart has started to beat a few times when I think of the way my neighbors watch for me. I do not ask them to, but they happily inquire about my well being. These people offer to help me with tasks with no expectation of payment. I do not understand.

I do not understand how my heart, so hard and strong, has become like that of … I do not know. I cannot explain how I feel almost warm-blooded.

I am a Vampire King. I have led armies. I have ruled an empire of the undead. I have been just and cruel showing swift justice to those who have crossed me, and my people. And even though some call me cute, I have been feared. I have ordered heads be put on poles outside of my castle. I have watched Vampires feast as blood dripped from their chins while I laughed. Yes, I have been feared. I have made hearts stop and souls grow cold.

Yet, here in this world in which I now live, my neighbor, a woman named Liz, asked me to feed and pet her cat while she is gone for the weekend. Liz once asked me to watch her children for a few hours when she took her husband to the hospital. The children were small, a feast for some less cultured Vampires, but I watched them. The baby was not yet walking but crawled in my lap and laughed and drooled. The older child, a small boy of about six years showed me how he could draw a cat. It was, dare I say, cute.

I told him stories about the animals of the forests near where I lived as a child. There was a great bear who would eat men who came to kill for sport. He would only let those who killed for food go home to their families. There were birds who would talk and tell the secrets of all, and whisper them to the bats, who in turn would whisper them into the ears of sleeping humans, who would then wake in confusion with a sense of unknown betrayal. I told him of the beautiful hawk I hunted with. I told him of my horses, but not of the battles. This child is one who would one day make a good Vampire but I did not tell him that. After he had gone to sleep I showed the baby my fangs. She laughed. I also laughed. I knew she would keep it our secret.

I feel warm. That troubles me, but it is not altogether bad. I must go feed the cat now. Her name is Daisy. Like the flower, only she is a cat.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I was out at one of my favorite night spots, a small old local bar where people of all ages sit at dark wooden tables, and at a long bar, and talk while sipping drinks and listening to Irish Punk music (yes, I do know what that is. I am not that much in the dark about current culture.)

A few young women who frequent there like to give out cookies. I do not eat cookies. I am a Vampire. Then I thought of the singer Randolpho told me about. There were cookies made of figs called Newtons. I wondered if the singer who sounded like a girl ate fig cookies. I wondered if he wandered the Nevada desert like Moses of the Bible because figs are biblical. Then I had another glass of wine to ease the pounding in my head. I wanted blood but I would have to wait.

But tonight the young women, they tell me that these cookies they have are called fortune cookies. I told them that I did not understand. Where they like tea leaves that one could read the crumbs of such cookies to tell the future. They laughed and then one of the women cracked a hard oddly shaped cookie in half. Inside was a small slip of paper with the words You have a charming way with words and should write a book.

That was not a fortune. It was advice. A fortune would say something like tonight you die a slow and painful death.

Another cookie had a note in it with the words You may lose the small ones but win the big ones. I do not understand which ones they are referring to. I did not ask.

The women gave me another fortune cookie. I cracked it open and found the small slip of paper, and it read Boy chased girl around church and catch him by organ. The women all laughed. I did not understand. One said it was one of the dirty fortune cookies. They all laughed again. I still did not understand.

“Why would one want to eat a dirty cookie. Do you not like your food to be clean?” I asked.

They all laughed and said I was too cute. I do not understand. How can I be cute, much less too cute? Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am at a loss. The language of women is confusing. I will never understand.

I gave the women the cookies to eat. I went home with one and drank her blood. I left her sleeping with a smile on her face. We only talked. That is what she wanted. She is in love with a young man. I will make sure he falls in love with her. I am a Vampire. I can do that. The next morning I had flowers sent to her. What is happening to me? I, Vlad the Vampire King sent flowers.

Maybe I should write a book.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I started to read a new book. A friend recommended it. She is a Vampire as well. The book is odd but I like it. It is about science and fiction. I like this Science Fiction. It could be real, but maybe not. That sense of the unknown has a certain thrill to it. The drawing of the woman on the cover is beautiful. She reminds me of my sister. I will send her a copy. My sister is a Vampire but she would like space travel.

Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe

My love Gillian came to me and told me to put down my book. She put her hands on my shoulders and gently carressed them. Then she walked around in front of me and gently kissed my lips. She tasted like fresh blood and cinnimon. She asked what I was reading. I told her I was in the middle of an amusing story called Hollow Heads.

She curled next to me and I read it to her. She laughed and said she wanted me to read more to her, but later… Then we made love as only Vampires can. That had nothing to do with the story we’d read. It is just what we do when we are together.

As we lay in bed, our bodies entwined, Gillian asked me if I believed there were others out in space. I glanced out the window at the moonless sky. I gently kissed her and took her hand, holding it close to my chest.

“I wonder,” I said, “if there are lovers out beyond the stars we can see tonight, asking the same question. There has to be. If I can wake after three hundred years into a world such as this, then there have to be other worlds out beyond our imagination. It would be sad to think that we were so alone, like someone locked in a crypt, withtout hope of a friend who would someday come by and break the seal.”

Gillian whispered, “I love you Vlad,” and kissed my neck, gently scraping her fangs over my skin, then moved her lips to mine.

Yes, I was on Earth, but she transported me to the stars once more, as she always does.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

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