— Posted in Code Dead, Vampire Noir

Code Dead – The intermission between “Glenda” and “I, The Jury” [Chapter 4, Part 4]


Here’s a double dose of drive-in depravity with two kinky classics from producer David F. Friedman! “Scum of the Earth!” (1963, 68 min.) – Trying to earn money for college, wholesome cutie Kim (Vickie Miles) is sucked into the degenerate world of the dirty picture racket when she agrees to model for the “Scum of the Earth” in this film from cult director Herschell Gordon Lewis. Under the tutelage of a sleazy photographer, Kim is soon posing topless before being blackmailed into appearing in raunchier shots, which lead to a police raid, two murders, and suicide. “The Defilers” (1965, 63 min.) are two hedonistic young men who, just for kicks, abduct a sexy blonde (Mai Jansson) as their own personal sex toy. Directed by R. Lee Frost (Love Camp 7), this shattering story of the shameless is downright nasty but you can’t look away.


Dwayne is more than a little put out by the whole affair. The way Beegie acted, it’s as if she were human. All he can do is mope around, instead of giving Beegie her just kudos. He and Mondo living together as bohemians in the posh Central west End, daily fucking [Mondo] that hedonistic bloodsucker of his, have not put a dent in his sour demeanor.

Mondo being Mondo just accepts things for what they are, and has moved on with her life as Madam Wu’s newest hostess. Her days are spent lazy seated outside the Coffee Cartel sipping chocolate malts made from French vanilla ice cream—Beegie no longer works there; that dog has disappeared off the map, no one seems to know where Beegie has gone. Seven days a week, her nights of course are spent working at Guo Bin. Off-duty or on, Mondo does her schoolmarm look, the uber harsh one that Madam Wu gets so very wet over.

A month into playing house with Dwayne, she drops by ADA Onatopp’s office downtown late one night after her shift is over at Guo Bin. Except for the cleaning crew and the night watchman, she and Onatopp are the only ones in the building.

“You’ve been drinking.”

“You ought to see me in an hour … I’ll be really plastered by then.”

“You’re worse than Dwayne, still out of sorts over Beegie.”

“That bitch got away with murder, and that doesn’t bother you a bit, does it?”


“Fuck you!”

“I’d love for you to.”

“I helped her get acquitted.”

“Unwittingly, yes.”

“And, for you, your duplicity is just water off a duck back?! Unfeeling harlot!!!”

“Look, you keep this up and you’re going to lose your job. Or worse … You’ll get deemed a security risk and get a Jimmy Hoffa done on you.”

Onatopp lunges at Mondo, scratching wildly at the air like a crazed alley cat. She ends up on the floor of her office in a slobbering heap. Onatopp was far more drunk than she knew.

She wakes up in her apartment, undressed, in her bra and panties. Mondo made sure that she got home in a cab, and that no one saw them leave the office building with her in such an inebriated condition. Thanks to the Vampire, they entered Onatopp’s apartment building just as surreptitiously. Onatopp promptly passed out once they entered her apartment.

Onatopp’s stomach begins to churn and twist violently. She reaches the toilet just in time, and pukes her gut out.

“Very good. Worshipping your porcelain goddess. Get used to it.”

Onatopp wipes her vomit smeared mouth with the back of her hand. She’s red-faced, enraged.

“Bitch! What did you do to me?!”

“I gave you something. For the next year, maybe more, when you try to do your guilt trip in a bottle routine … you’ll end up on your knees, puking your guts out.”

For a fleeting moment, Onatopp thinks about belting the Vampire. Reason takes hold and she thinks better of it. Onatopp calms down and stands up on very shaky legs. Mondo hands her a clean, wet towel and she cleans herself up. Onatopp steadies herself—the shakes finally pass.

“You got balls, I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t worry; you can still drink socially, but no more drowning your sorrows in a bottle.”

“Why do you care what I do with my life?”

“I like you.”

Onatopp chuckles. The mood lightens, appropriately.

“Is this your sly way of playing up to me by showing me your sensitive side? One of your sneaky lesbian tricks to get me in your bed?”

“I don’t have a sensitive side.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Also … I’m not a lesbian, I’m omnisexual, and you’re straight. I’m willing, you’re not. Never the twain shall meet. Your loss.”

“I’ll survive.”

While Onatopp changes into something clean and more comfortable, Mondo fixes them a late-night snack of cold cuts. They retire to the dining room and eat. They get cozy over a bottle of wine, after the meal on the sofa. Onatopp doesn’t get sick. Mondo is a woman of her word, Onatopp can still engage in social drinking.

“In my world, my universe as you humans would call it, you are an Elf named Perry Mason. Actually … Her name is Felicity Mason. Friends of the Elf nick her Perry, as in Perry Mason the famous Gotham City lawyer. When the Corps isn’t yanking the reservist’s chain, Fel is a junior partner with the prestigious law firm of Cohn, Wesley, Ross, & Finkle.”

“My alternate is Attorney Felicity Mason, an Elf, correct?”


“Which Corps?”


“Which stands for, what?”

“United States Colonial Marine Corps.”

“I’m in the military?!”

“She is.”

“Wow! That’s a hoot.”

“As you can guess, she’s a defense attorney, and a damn good one.”

“Was she born human and made?”

“I don’t know.”

“Translation: you know, but you won’t tell me.”

Mondo sidesteps the conversation and steers into another conversation entirely.

“You’re a good kid. You just had a stumble and needed a nudge. You felt sorry for Ricky; poor fated imbecile got duped into thinking that Beegie really cared about him. And she probably did have some feelings for him, but Food is Food, nonetheless.”

“Your kind can never be trusted.”

“No we can’t. It always comes back to that cautionary about the scorpion and the frog. We are predatory, by nature.”

“You always betray us in the end. You’ll betray me.”

“Yes I will, just not in the way that you’re expecting.”

Onatopp doesn’t push her to elaborate. A wise move since Mondo wouldn’t if she was foolish enough to ask. Instead she chooses to not squander this very golden opportunity. Looks and brains, a formidable combination indeed, especially when possessed by a woman like Onatopp.

“You didn’t look surprised when I asked you to read the note in court. Poker face or had you’d assumed that we had been fully briefed about your considerable linguistic capabilities.”

“The latter. But, why ask what you’ve already surmised?”

“Because I just had to hear you say it, which I’m sure you don’t understand. We’re so much alike, to be so different. I look the other way, try to be smart and not wear my crusading heart on my sleeve, but then those cases come along from time to time like Ricky’s and I get suckered in again. I know that Justice is blind … I’m a big girl, all grown up, a consummate professional …”

“But you’re still human and you have feelings, and deep down you felt sorry for Ricky, and because of that you wanted his killer brought to justice and pay for what they had done even more than your usual advocacy on behalf of a victim – and that speaks volumes because you’re quite the zealot about such things—that’s what makes you such a crackerjack prosecutor. Deep down, partiality aside, you felt that Beegie was getting a raw deal and was getting railroaded, and truth be told, she was. And you wanted justice for her too. You wanted her guilt or innocence determined by due process based on the evidence—that’s what makes you such a star defense attorney. But … The fix was in …”

“Because someone knew that she was guilty, but couldn’t prove it by ordinary means. I see that now, but couldn’t then. If I had, I would have used you differently on the stand.”

Mondo shrugs her shoulders, which drives Onatopp peanuts to no end.

“Truth be told, being the kind of person that you are, had you known you still would have tried the case the same way, you would have just had different emotions about Beegie being acquitted.”

“Are you that pragmatic, that practical, that unfeeling, that totally devoid of empathy, that …?!!!”

“I’m that cold. And, no, I won’t facilitate your fall from grace by killing Beegie for you. I can’t be bribed, even if you offered me your body as hard currency.”

“I wish I could kill her myself.”

“That’s self-righteous foolishness talking, fueled by anger; your anger at yourself for being instrumental in aiding and abetting a clod-blooded murderer. Then again you don’t have the skills to kill her anyways.”

Onatopp stands up, steps around the coffee table, and begins to nervously pace the room—nervous agitation, not a case of nerves. This broad is tough.

“What else?”

“Like all heroes … You’ve got a conscious, and it wouldn’t let you live with yourself if you avenged yourself on Beegie that way, whether you contracted the job or you were able to somehow accomplish it yourself. But like I said, the latter is out of the question, because you don’t have the skills; you’ve got the balls, though.”

“So I just learn to live with it?”

“You will, in the end. Like I said, you just needed a nudge in the right direction.”

“Because you like me?”


“But given you dithers, you’d still eat me in a New York minute?”

“Bon appetite.”

“Because as you’ve so aptly stated: Food is Food.”


“Did you feel me up while I was unconscious?”




“Well, I find that hard to believe considering …”

“I did not fondle, feel you up, sodomize you … take any liberties with you in any way, shape, or form. Nor would I ever rape you, no matter how much I know I would enjoy doing just that—violent, sick, nasty rape.”

“But you’re not a nice person. You’re far worse than bad—Beegie was bad. You’re fucking evil.”

“Yes, but even evil people do nice things. I’m not some one-dimensional villain in a movie or a comic book. I’m a real person. I rape, torture, murder, etc … for pure sexual gratification, I’ve just not chosen to do any of those things to you nor will I.”

“And then there is ROE … those rules of yours, you supernaturals have, that y’all are supposed to follow.”

Mondo smiles at Onatopp’s deft usage. The girl is milking her like a dairy farm.

“Which I follow …”

“But … Only when it suits you?”

“Now, that would be telling. I won’t make it that easy for you. You prove otherwise.”

“Okay, hypothetically speaking … you follow ROE only when it suits you, and even then you only do the letter of the law, never the spirit. And, if you were ever caught engaging in divergent behavior for which the penalty was death, you would just accept your fate feeling no remorse whatsoever. And I’m talking real gone, as in death you wouldn’t resurrect from.”

“Hypothetically speaking … Yes …”

Mondo’s smile grows even broader.

“You know your way around my apartment. Yet, I’ve never had you over.”

“I keep tabs on you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one.”

Onatopp sits back on the sofa, this time comfortably close—it’s a ploy, not a play, nothing else—as aforementioned, she digs guys, not chicks. She’s decided to throw her hat in the deep end.

“I’ll bet you’ve snuck into my apartment at night without my knowledge, stood over my bed, and stared at me while I was asleep, fantasying about fucking me. Knowing what’s in your dossier, the redacted version that my security clearance allows me access to, I can only shudder merely speculating about the degenerative things that you must have done to me in your head. Those sick fantasies you entertained of me being with you—twisted bitch that you are. Violent rape, torture, degradation, disfigurement, maiming, and death … over and over again … You doing me and me doing you …”

Mondo stands up, yawns, and casually stretches her arms. Game over, for now. It’s been fun. Time to go.

“Mind Games 101 … To be continued another time. At least you’re acting like your old self again. The drinking makes you look weak. And I don’t like weak women; I just use them, which is NEVER good for their continued good health or well-being.”