S1E17 - Comte de Saint Germain and the Vampires of New Orleans (ft. Christopher Allen)

THE TALEGATE PODCAST

Episode 13: Saint Germain

Part 1: Introductions

FLORIDA MAN: Howdy folks, and welcome to The Talegate!

CHEESEHEAD: For those of you just joining us, we’re on a roadtrip across America to uncover the mysteries behind tall tales, fairy tales, folktales, fishtales, & urban legends, one interview at a time.

FM: We inherited a truck from our late Granny May and discovered that the crystal hanging off the rearview mirror was more than decorative. It’s a Dowsing Pendulum leading us to the good folks behind the tales we all grew up with.

CH: We accidentally stole a canopic jar belonging to the mummy of Pharaoh Ay, who promptly placed a death curse on us. So that’s nice.

FM: But fret not, Talegaters, because all we have to do was return the jar to the rest of the set by the next blood moon to break the Mummy’s Curse. We’ll ship it back to the museum soon and avoid having our souls forfeited to Anubis. Nothin’ to worry about.

CH: Except the Men in Black, who are also after us.

FM: Oh yea. But nothing else to worry about though… right?

CH: Yah, no, I think you covered it.

FM: Phew. With that, I’m Harrison, the Florida Man. 

CH: And I’m Aaron the Cheesehead. And today we are coming to you from New Orleans, Louisiana, where the architecture and streets are as colorful & French as the foul language, and air as moist and hot as a fresh beignets. 

FM: Sounds really good, actually. I could go for some beignets. Actually, and we’re just a trolly ride away from that famous Cafe Du Monde. Wanna check it out?

CH: I Du indeed. 

FM: Aight. Here it comes.

[Trolly sounds]

TROLLY: Bonjour, messieurs. 

FM: Bonjer back atcha. Two trolley tickets, please!

TROLLY: Two *ahem* street car tickets will come to a total of 2 dollars, 50 cents.

FM: Sure thang, lady. Here’s my card.

TROLLY: Unfortunately our street car is exact-change only. Or perhaps you have Jazzy Passes?

CH: Jazzy Pass? Uh, no. Fresh out of those. One second, let me check my pockets.

FM: Yea, I’ll check mine, too, right quick. 

CH: Dollar seventy-five.

FM: And I got three quarters right here.

CH: There you go, Miss! 

TROLLY: You seem to be a quarter shy.

CH: Nope, count ‘em. Ten quarters.

TROLLY. This is actually 9 quarters and a bottle cap. I’m sorry, but that’s only 2.25 of the 2.50 necessary to ride the street car. 

FM: But I ain’t got no more change.

TROLLY: Then I ain't got no more room on board. No quarter, no Ride. Désolé.

CH: Man, fuck this!

[peels out]

FM: Whoooaaaa! ...You see that guy over there peelin’ out like a maniac?

CH: Yah, that can’t be good for his tires. Anyway, it looks like we’ll be walking to the French Quarter… if only we had a french quarter to cover out fare.

FM: Eh, reckon we need the exercise anyway after being cooped up on the car for so long.

CH: That’s true. Map here says Cafe Du Monde is across from Jefferson Square. Now that we have time on our hands with this leisurely jaunt, might as well jump right into it.

FM: Sure. So today we’re lookin’ to meet up with one of the most interestin’ and puzzling men ever walk the planet earth. And to top it off, he’s prolly a vampire.

CH: Now vampirism is nothing new to the glistening, brick-paved streets of New Orleans. And in fact, it’s sort of a hub for these nocturnal predators. Earliest examples I could find were John and Wayne Carter: two brothers from these parts who were sentenced to execution for a string of peculiar murders. 

FM: I’d bet a pretty penny this kind of “peculiar” involves blood-sucking.

CH: And you’d be right on the nose… or right on the neck. A dozen or more bodies linked to these brothers were found completely drained of blood.

FM: Did police capture the men by stumbling ‘pon their coffins or some shit?

CH: Not even. Police had no idea who committed the murders until a bloodied-up woman stampeded into the station pleading for help. She was an escapee of the brothers and led the popo to the Carters’s apartment where the two men were convicted and put to death. At least death by human standards.

FM: How’d you mean?

CH: I mean that, ever since their execution, sightings of the two brothers have been reported. This indicated that their death in the big house didn’t take, as there are only a number of ways to truly kill a vampire.

FM: Jumpin’ Jesus. 

CH: Yah, Jesus is one of the ways. --Oh, and their bodies? Missing from the family vaults. 

FM: Man, them no good vampires bros are out here for sure. Probably watching us right now. We know ya’lls out there, Carter bros! We’re on to you!

CH: Yah, you won’t get the drop on us!

FM: If they do, maybe they can spot us a quarter so we don’t have to walk so damned far for our beignets .

CH: Wishful thinking, but they don’t exactly strike me as the charitable type. More the grizzly murdering type.

FM: They seemed to only kill women though. So reckon we’re at least safe from ‘em, should them no good bat bastards come flying at us.

CH: Hold up just a second!

FM: Yea?

CH: Look...there it is! Cafe Du Monde!

FM: Heeell yea. Let’s get ‘em!

[Running]

CAFE: Welcome to Cafe Du Monde. Here for our legendary coffee and beignets?

FM/CH: Yes please!

CAFE: Two coffees and an order of three beignets sound good to you boys?

FM/CH: Yes please!

CAFE: Total comes to 7.26.

FM: Heeeere ya go, lady! Got my shiny Midflorida Credit Union card right here!

CAFE: Oh, bless your heart. I’m sorry, dear. But Cafe Du Monde is cash only.

CH: Okay well FUCK THIS SHIT!

[Peeling out]

FM: Hey, there’s that guy again.

CH: That dude has some serious road rage. Anyway, I guess we gotta walk to an ATM.

GERMAIN: Here you go miss, a twenty ought to cover it, yes? Keep the change.

FM: Who dat?

CAFE: Thank you, sir! Sorry for any inconvenience, boys. Your order will be right out!

CH: Ah geez, you didn’t have to go and do all that, my dude.

GERMAIN: And deprive you gentlemen of the most legendary beignets this side of the pond? What kind of guest would that make of me?

CH: Generous, but ah, I thought we were the guests here in New Orleans?

FM: Nah, Cheesehead, I think he means the guest for our show. I think this is our guy!

GERMAIN: Comte de Saint Germain, at your service.

FM: Cone dude Super Saiyan…

CH: Get som deez nutz?…

GERMAIN: Count Saint Germain will do. Or Germain for the sake of simplicity.

CH: Actually, beyond the name we’re currently butchering, you have about the longest list of titles of anyone we’ve interviewed so far, Mr. Simply Count Saint Germain.

FM: Seriously: you’ve been known as Jacque, Marquis de Montferrat, Count Weldon, Bellamarre, Soltikoff...

CH: You’ve been identified as a Mason, a Knight of Templar, a mystic and occultist; “A hero of Romance, a charlatan, a swindler, and an adventurer” to quote historian, Isabel Cooper-Oakley. 

FM: According to Horace Walpol, you have been “called an Italian, a Spaniard, a Pole; a somebody that married a great fortune in Mexico, and ran away with her jewels to Constantinople; a priest, a fiddler, a vast nobleman.” 

CH: Giacomo Casanova, the supreme sensualist himself and your fellow diplomat, called you “a scholar, linguist, musician, and chemist, good-looking, and a perfect ladies' man.”

GERMAIN: Hah, he did say that, didn’t he? I do miss my old friend.

FM: You were called “One of the greatest philosophers who ever lived” by the Danish Prince Charles in full earnest; and facetiously called “The Wonderman” by famed philosopher, Voltiare. 

GERMAIN: I do not so much miss Voltaire, but I digress. I must admit, you Talegaters have researched Yours Truly far more extensively than I had anticipated. I am a bit taken aback, honestly. What brings you both to NoLa?

CH: Oh--We’re on a roadtrip across America to uncover the…

GERMAIN: “... the mysteries behind talltales, fairytales, folktales, fishtales, & urban legends, one interview at a time.”

CH: Wowzeers, yah. You read us like a book. Must be a fan of the podcast, er no?

FM: If so, it’d be really cool if you left us a positive review on Apple Podcast (and same for you folks listenin’ at home).

GERMAIN: I, too, have researched you fine men rather extensively. People in situations like my own tend to listen to shows such as The Talegate Podcast, as a way of... keeping tabs.

FM: Boy, we run up tabs like nobody’s business, so you go right ahead and keep ‘em. 

CH: Or do you mean “tabs” as in, keeping tabs on our unique interviewees?

GERMAIN: Keeping tabs on you, not to put too fine a point on it. Keeping tabs on those humans at risk of sniffing too close in places they may sooner-than-later come to regret.

FM: Yikes.

CH: Well, I can promise you that we mean you and your folk--whoever the heck they even are-- no harm in the slightest. You claim to listen to our show. We always try to be as professional and respectful as we can.

GERMAIN: You intoxicate yourselves on the trunk end of your wagon, heave glass bottles into the ocean, and lombast mausoleum walls to quench your selfish, morbid curiosities. I think you neither professional nor particularly respectful,--indicative of your low births. But you both do possess an undeniable charm that has kept you alive thus far, despite numerous wagers on the contrary.

FM: Shoot, I’d like to get in on that action.

GERMAIN: Doubtful you could, considering t’was I who fronted your bill just now.

FM: Solid point.

GERMAIN: Not forgetting the fact that you would have to bet against heavy odds to collect. Because you would otherwise be… well, I think you understand what I am alluding to.

CH: Otherwise be D-D-D-DEAD?!

GERMAIN: Should it alleviate any concern, my friends, I assure you that I have no foul intent on this fine night. I am simply here to humor you with an interview.

CH: One might call it...an Interview with a Vampire.

GERMAIN: Your words, not mine, as those devious nocturnes have never claimed me, nor have I them.

FM: You didn’t deny it ‘neither though.

GERMAIN: And there it is. That surprising wit and charm you both are becoming so known for.

FM: Hear that, Cheesehead? Fella here thinks we’re charmin’!

CH: And let’s keep that trend afloat by offering our guest some craft beer. For your trouble and for covering our beignets, we’d love to share some fine brew with yah! We’d have to get back to the truck first though. You know, tailgate and whatnot.

GERMAIN: Ah, yes. But even the mere temptation of such poison besmirches my temple of body and idol of mind. 

FM: Didn’t you just buy sugared donuts? How sacred could that temple be?

GERMAIN: Indeed I did lay purchase. For you. As you two seem not least bothered by the state of your body or minds.

CAFE: And here you are! Two piping hot black coffees--medium-- and a bag of hot’n fresh beignets. Enjoy!

FM: How could we not? Wait, Cheesehead, why you thumbin through your notebook like that when we got donuts here coolin’ off by the second?

Part 2: The Legend

CH: It’s just that Count Germain’s comments reminded me of something I took note of when researching for this episode. Ah, here we are: While in the company of Louis XV, it is said that you “ate no meat, drank no wine, and lived according to a strict regime,” and insisted on dining alone even going so far as to turn town dining with the prince himself.

FM: Meat, wine,...dain’t say thing about donuts.

GERMAIN: It is fair to say that--wait, “dain’t?” What the devil does that even mean? On second thought, I shan’t entertain such linguistic abominations. Now where was I?

FM: “It is fair to say…”

GERMAIN: Ah, yes. It is fair to say that I wish to dine in private. I am quite punctilious on the manners of consumption.

FM: Must be punctilious as all hell to turn this shit down. [bites and chews] Cheesehead, get in on these beignets already! 

CH: I’m coming, I’m coming. [munch] Well curd my milk and fry dem bitches! These are the best flippin donuts I’ve ever tasted! [mouth full] Thanks a million, Mr. Saint! Or--Mr. Count Saint! Err...Mr. Count Saint Germain? I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

FM: I’ll shoot you straight, Germain, I do think you’re a vampire. Your freaky eatin’ habits, immortality, and all that jazz.

[Jazz band marches by, “IKO IKO!”]

FM: That’s not the jazz I meant, but still love it though.

GERMAIN: You retain the right to speculate. But without evidence, this conjecture is hardly more than a hypothesis without but the faintest wisp of certitude. 

FM: How’s about the fact you ain’t ever seen eating solid food or drinkin’ nothing? Gotta run and hide just to eat.

CH: Yah, pretty suspicialicious.

GERMAIN: I prefer to dine in privacy, as stated. 

FM: Because you’re drinking blood!

CH: Yea!

FM: YEA!

GERMAIN: Frivolous postulation. How about “I flip the script” for a moment, what say you?

CH: Wait, there’s a script?

FM: We prolly need one, off-topic as we get.

GERMAIN: Do you bathe regularly?

CH: I wish he did.

FM: Hush. ‘Course we bathe. Reckon one could call it, “regularly.”

GERMAIN: In private or before land and lord?

FM: Land and Lord? Man, in private. 

GERMAIN: Or is “privacy” pretense for the bathing in virgin blood to maintain the vestige of youth à la Countess Elizabeth Bathory?

FM: No. Obviously that’s insane.

GERMAIN: You have arrived at a very sound conclusion. The absence of evidence isn’t evidence.

CH: Okay, you make a good point in favor of, yanno, not being a vampire. Vampyr? Honestly I don’t even know the difference.

GERMAIN: The latter is archaic, and the words are otherwise synonyms.

CH: So you’re not a vampire. But you have been alive, what, hundreds of years, by all accounts?

GERMAIN: To which accounts do you speak of?

CH: Alright, no more beating around the bush, we’re about to play a fun little game we like do here on The Talegate called, Isssss this You? 

FM: Damn, pullin’ out the big funs this early?

CH: Darn tootin’ I am! So the game is called, “Isss This You?”...

GERMAIN: Were you provide evidence of my existence throughout history and I answer the question: Is This Me? Yes, I am very familiar as, once again, I listen to your show. Shall We begin or would you prefer more beating around the proverbial “bush?”

FM: That made this instantly less fun, but okay. You were known even by Voliare to have claimed the position of Scotch Egg.

CH: Scotch Knight.

FM: Scotch Knight! Now, I did a little diggin’ and found that, ‘ccording to A Dictionary of Symbolic Masonry, the Scotch Egg-

CH: Scotch Knight.

FM: Scotch Knight, is the highest symbolic age of the Freemasons. The age of which is 500 years old! Regarding your claim to been a Scotch Knight and thus alive over five centuries, the Masonic Order refused back you up to the public. Some even called you a “celebrated imposter.” So, Saint Germain… Scotch Egg-Knight, whatever. Is This You?

GERMAIN: I am a man of many titles, “liar” being absent among them. Indeed I am a Scotch Knight. And I have no doubt the Masonic majority would reject the notion, for deep down these cellar-tiered sheep believe their own symbolic ages a thing of ludicracy. Imagine: a fraternity in which the highest tiers seem absurd even by your deepest fancies. Why even join such an order then, one must question?

CH: Okay Buddy, my research shows that you traveled all throughout Europe, India, China, and Africa claiming to be 50, 88, 300, and 500 years old depending on who asked. To boot, you ran under various aliases, which seems to coincide with the conflicting plethora of names trailing you throughout history like a kitetail. So world-traveler of multiple names and ages… Is This You?

GERMAIN: No…

CH: AHA!

GERMAIN: And yes consequently. For you see, I was indeed a high ranking Mason and travelled under many guises to conceal my true origins. It is well testified that I would vanish for months on end, set forth as a messenger of the Great Lodge.

CH: So lying about your age and name checks in this case, I guess.

GERMAIN: My behavior wasn’t mendacious in the slightest.

CH: You assumed different names. That is lying.

GERMAIN: I am no more a liar than, say, Eric Arthur Blair, Samuel Clemens, or New Orleans’s own, Howard Allen Frances O'Brien.

CH: [Sarcastically] Oh yah, I definitely know who they are.

GERMAIN: The pseudonyms of George Orwell, Mark Twain, and Anne Rice, respectively. And all liars by your account.

CH: Ah come on, those are pen names though. Codewords used to keep the author’s private lives, Well, ...private.

GERMAIN: Precisely as I was doing during my globetrotting affairs.

FM: Alright, fair play on the names. But you did lie about your ages though.

GERMAIN: How so? As you mentioned, I claimed to have been 50, 88, 300, and 500 years. And I have been all of those ages at some point of another.

FM: You… you are one clever sonabitch.

CH: And probably a vampire.

FM: On most definitely. 

GERMAIN: Astonishing. I denounce your suppositions of any links to vampirism and yet still you peck at me like a crazed brood of hens.

CH: Well, you seemingly live forever.

GERMAIN: And that I do. But to associate every immortal with a court of the vampire is narrow minded at best, perilous at worst. So I come to you now with an inquiry of my own.

CH: Okie Dokey.

FM: Shoot.

GERMAIN: What evidence do YOU two lads propose in support of such outlandish declarations?

CH: Well, as mentioned, you are immortal.

GERMAIN: Which is not limited to nor specifically linked to vampirism.

FM: True, but you know what is linked to vampirism? 

GERMAIN: Do enlighten me.

FM: Transylvania. Once the kingdom of Count Dracula himself, Vlad the Impaler.

GERMAIN: Oh my. Are you implying that I am Vlad the Impaler? Is this a ruse?

FM: No ruse! I ain’t sayin’ you’re him exactly. BUT, you were known at times to go by the name of Graf Tzarogy.

GERMAIN: Perhaps, and what of it?

FM: You any good at Scrabble, Mr. Scotch Egg?

CH: Knight.

FM: Dammit.

GERMAIN: No. Throughout my existence, I’ve had scant time for games, so you must pardon my ignorance as it pertains to Scrabble. I do, however, struggle to find any relevance    here. 

FM: Your name, Tzarogy, a German surname, is an anagram for Ragoczy. As in Prince Rogoczy of what’s modern day Romania aka Transylvania aka home of Vlad Dracula.

GERMAIN: Dracula is a work of fiction penned by one Bram Stoker, little more.

FM: Little more my foot. The very real Vlad accrued the title, "Dracul" from fellow members of the Order of the Dragon. 

CH: Weren’t they the radical brotherhood benefactored by the Holy Roman Emperor and charged to stop expansion of the Ottoman empire at any cost?

GERMAIN: You are correct, Cheesemiester.

CH: Nice.

GERMAIN: But I still find myself far removed from any vampyric entanglements, unless there is more to this story you would like to add.

FM: Well yea. ‘Cordin’ to my findin’s, Georg Hezekiel, Prince Karl of Hesse, and others believed you to be Franz-Leopold Ragoczy of Transylvania. It’s even said you claimed as much yourself in 1777, speaking on it both openly and in confidence. 

CH: And you said yourself that you are a man of many things, but liar isn’t one of them.

GERMAIN: Not my exact wording, but true enough. I may be in relation to this family, but the fact of the matter is that I am not, nor ever have I been a vampire.

CH: So you aren’t a vampire then, okay. Can you explain then how you’ve come to live for so? What other measures are there of achieving immortality?

GERMAIN: A good many of them, in fact. But I digress. I think it safe to proclaim myself a chemist. You mentioned Casanova earlier in conversation, did you not?

CH: Sure did. 

GERMAIN: T’was he who stated in his memoirs that I was three-hundred years old, that I knew the secret of Universal Medicine, that I possessed a mastery over nature. 

CH: This strangely checks. It was said by others that you impressed many with your mastery of Instruments and composition, as well as your oil paintings where you used a “secret” color that only you knew how to create and implement. 

FM: You invented a color??

CH: For some, these feats were nothing short of miracles. Others equate it to your well of knowledge of chemistry, physics, and other sciences. In fact, your boy Casanova--a wealth of insight, I gotta say--had this to say in regards to the wooing of ladies with your scientific wizardry...

GERMAIN: “For a while he--Saint Germain-- gave women paints and cosmetics; he flattered them, not that he would make them young again but that their beauty would be preserved by means of a wash which, he said, cost him a lot of money, but which he gave away freely.” 

CH: How are you always a step ahead of me!

FM: Yea!

CH: YEA!

GERMAIN: Comes with age. 

FM: The Old Countess de Cergy spoke with a man named Saint Germain in 1770, telling him that she had met his father in Venice some 50 years prior. The young man replied that his father had long passed on and that it was he himself who she met in Venice all them years back. When she tried callin’ his bluff, he recounted their meeting in immaculate detail, but to her bewilderment.

GERMAIN: Yes, I do recall. 

FM: Old Countess claimed the man she met way back in 1710 [in girl voice] “was at least 45 years old, and you, at the outside, are that age at present.” To which you apparently just smiled and replied,

GERMAIN: “Madam, I am very old.” 

FM: “Then you must be nearly 100 years old!”

GERMAIN: “It is not impossible.” [3]

FM: To which she finally conceded, “No no, I believe you are a most extraordinary man, a devil.”

CH: So I’ll take it by the back and forths there that This Is You?

GERMAIN: Do you need it quilled, creased, and pressed in wax? Obviously, yes that was me.

CH: Point made, point made. Here’s a doozy; You are apparently also prophetic! On May 21st, 1821, Countess d’Adhémar wrote entries in a private diary regarding prophecies that you made which actually to came true. You spoke of tragedy in 1793, claiming it to be the “sad fate of the Queen Marie Antoniette.

GERMAIN: Had they only listened. 

CH: Similarly, on top of Marie’s beheading, she wrote that you prophesied the death of Duke d'Enghien, murder of Duke De Berrie, and more. This was written in 1821, by the way.

GERMAIN: I believe you are correct, yes. 

CH: Which is funny, because “St Germain” is widely known to have died in 1784! When she asked if you would re-setttle in Paris. And you said,

GERMAIN: That “a century will pass before I reappear.” And it was so. 

FM: I mean, not so much for her, cause she’d be dead and all. Hey, in 1775, there was a “Unknown” man matching your description rallying the American forefathers into the signing of the declaration of Independence. St. Germain, 

GERMAIN: IsssSSsss This Me? Why, yes, yes it was. I was indeed among the colonists.

FM: 1784- St. Germain dies.

GERMAIN: Yes, in a manner of speaking.

CH: 1785- St Germain appears at the Masonic convention in Paris according to the registrar by Dr. E. E. Eckert.

GERMAIN: Yes. Interesting fellow, that one.

FM: 1786- Germain meets with the Empress of Russia. [6]

GERMAIN: Da, eto pravda (“This is true” in Russian).

CH: 1788- He tells Baron Linden, “I will rest; I must rest. Exactly in eighty-five years will people again set eyes on me. Farewell, I love you.”

GERMAIN: Yes. Are you questioning my love for sweet Baron Linden?

CH: No. I don’t even know who that is, I’m gonna be real with you. 1897, singer Emma Calve autographs her picture to Saint Germain, calling him, “the great chiromancer, who told me many truths.

GERMAIN: Yes. I certainly told the girl many truths.

CH: Wowzers. I’m starting to think that you are the most interwoven and influential immortal to ever live. I mean, the American and French revolutions? Secret missionary of the Freemasons? 

FM: The fact that you’d fall into trances which you claimed transported you to another dimension and enabled you to commune with the dead? Your claim to have the ability to tame wild bees and snakes?

GERMAIN: I conceded that in all my many centuries of life, never have a pair of lads exhausted 

me so much as you two have. So I shall come out with it. You want to know my secret?

CH: Uh, yah!

FM: Does it rhyme with clam-buyer?

GERMAIn: You mentioned my affinity for the sciences.

CH: Uh Yah. Yah, I did somewhere back there.

GERMAIN: It was through this, not vampirism or any affliction of the ilk, which I achieved immortality. For you see, I sampled the world for the rarest of earth’s treasures, Rarest of waxes and venoms notwithstanding, to compress into the Magnum Opus.  

FM: You used magma?

GERMAIN: I did use magma, but what I said was, Magnum Opus. Lads, I, Count Saint Germain, have unlocked the secret to life itself: The Philosopher's Stone!!

CH: Wasn’t it “Sorcerer's Stone?”

FM: It’s “Philosopher's Stone” in the original British print. Not to be a prude.

GERMAIN: Excuse me? No, this is not some work of fiction. The coveted item which I possess is very real. 

CH: So that answers that. You got a neato little rock to keep you alive.

GERMAIN: “Neato little rock?”

FM: I think that’s pretty cool. I used to have a rock collection as a kid.

GERMAIN: You undermine the single greatest achievement in all of mankind, but perhaps your ignorance is to the betterment of us all. Many a man and woman would sacrifice the world itself for such an artifact. This… this stone is more a “holy grail” then the actual Holy Grail, do you understand?

CH: Holy Grail? Like Spamalot?

FM: “It’s just a model...”

GERMAIN: Again, you exhaust me. Have I at least put to rest any reservations you had about my being a vampire?

CH: Almost.

GERMAIN: Dear me.

CH: There is one alleged appearance we’ve yet to mention. One that took place right here in New Orleans. Suspiciously close to where ya are right now.

GERMAIN: I shall indulge you one last time.

FM: Despite being the front of the 20th century, a man by the name Jacques Saint Germain claimed to be your ancestor. And you do look strikingly similar. Jacques moved to New Orleans as a mysterious aristocrat and immediately fell in with the socal elite. After one of his extravagant parties, he lured a woman into his room alone.

GERMAIN: And what befell this poor creature, pray tell?

CH: Attempted murder as Jacques Germain rushed at her with the intent to bite and drain her blood! She escaped and made it to the police. By the time authorities made it to Germain’s manor, not only was he missing, but so was all of his belongings. It were as if he was never there. So, Count Saint Germain...or should I say Jacques...Is This You?

GERMAIN: No.

CH/FM: [gasp]

GERMAIN: That was certainly not me. Remember, I prefer to dine alone, so how would a vampire--forced into the company of his meal--be suitable to my tastes?

CH: That’s...a good point.

GERMAIN: I see to good measure that no other kind of point is ever to part my lips. Now, are we quite finished?

PART 3: A Warning

CH: While there are other sightings of you, Richard Chanfrey in the 1970’s for example, I think we got the answers we came for. You aren’t a vampire, but are in fact immortal--for you possess the fabled Philosopher's Stone. 

FM: So I guess that’s it for us. We really appreciate you spottin’ us the beignets and settin’ the records straight. Got one more question burnin’ my brain, however.

GERMAIN: [Exasperated sound] Alas, speak true.

FM: If you ain’t a vampire what’s your business here in New Orleans?

GERMAIN: I came for you, if you must know. For you see, lads, much as I did the late Marie Antoinette, I bare yet another prophesy. A curse of death shall be placed upon you.

CH: Oh, that’s old news. We know all about the curse and trust us, we know how to break the it.

GERMAIN: You know how to break the curse, yet still it shall come to pass.

FM: You think we ain’t gonna succeed and the mummy’s gonna come back for us?

GERMAIN: It is beyond what I think; it’s what I know to be true.

CH: All we gotta do is return a canopic jar to the Egyptologist buddy of ours and BOOM: curse Lifted. We got the jar and a return package is waiting for us in Dallas. Easy beasy.

GERMAIN: I pray it is so. Heed my warnings and tread lightly, my friends. 

FM: I mean, we just got back to our truck here to tailgate with you, Mr Saint Germain. Ain’t you gonna at least chill with us a bit while we drink some delicious beer?

GERMAIN: I have other appointments, I’m afraid. But being prophetic is a heavy weight to bear.

[Open beer bottle]

FM: Aight then, man. Thanks for joinin’ us long as you did.

CH: And thanks for the beignets! 

GERMAIN: My pleasure, lads. Do take care.

CH: See you around, Mr. Saint Germain!

GERMAIN: I pray this is true, despite my reservations. Farewell.

FM: Later, man! Welp...what we drinkin’ today, Cheesehead?

CH: Ah, thought you’d never ask! “AndyGator” Doppelbock by Abita Brewing Company, brewed right here in Louisiana. Good shit.

FM: And it’s got a big ol’ king gator on the bottle art. I’m a sucker for gator art.

CH: Indeed it does, plus it’s 8.5 ABV.

FM: I’m all about that. If you got art of your own you’d like to share, or any questions, corrections, or crazy encounters...shoot us an email at thetalegatepodcast@gmail.com and follow us on Instagram @TheTalegatePodcast for photos, cast info, updates and more!

CH: Be sure to tune in every Tuesday for more content. 

FM: See ya later, Talegaters!

CH: Tale-Andygator?

[Cheers clink]