Hello, I am The Black Orchid, immortal and spawn of lions My mother mated with a lion. I am like most other women save for my talons instead or fingernails, and my hunting of small animals, killing them with my bare hands. I yearn to run and feast on them after the hunt. I love the blood lust. I am three thousand years old. I summoned a redbird from a tree to land on my forearm that I might pluck a feather from it. I love the beauty of the animals, and crisp white winter landscape. I let my polar bear coat fall revealing my nudeness underneath. I yearn for the brutal feel of frost on my nude body. Life can be harsh and I relish it. One should never be too soft like a chocolate cherry.
I step out of my fur lined boots and the cold pierces my feet and I am thrilled. Overhead a gaggle of wild geese honks their way across the gray snow pocked sky and below me on the gold Carp swim in icy nothingness. I can see my breath in the air like blue smoke. In the distance I hear sleigh bells, and the tinny laughter of little children.
I see movement in the bushes and I start my chase, legs pounding, heart racing, I advance on the hare, perhaps the Easter Bunny. I grasp her by the throat and break her neck. Then I devour her like a glutton, ripping her every sinew apart. Then when the sun drops like a bloody ball from the sky I head back to prepare for my Christmas Eve Party. It will be my serfs and the girls, Lady Lynda, Auntie Carol, and Wanda Lust, Ex-Crack Whore, and their spouses. The featured drink will be Remy And Eggnog, There will traditional fare with game animals like elk and deer, and all manner of vegetables, breads and pies. We shall decorate a thirty foot Blue Spruce tree. My acolytes will wear black and red leather loin cloths and nothing else Less is more, My Darlings, And Merry Christmas, Lovies!