21 November 2011

Don’t you wonder how the Christmas story would be told today?  Gone would be the stilted and droning prose of yore and in its place, a new, hip vernacular. It might go something like this.

Way back when, The Man wanted to screw-over everyone by laying a 1040 on them.  Part of the deal was everyone had to hoof it back to Granny’s place so some hump could put the bite on them.  Two such folks were old Joe and his young squeeze, Mary.  Mary had a bun in the oven so the trip was going to be a profound drag.

Well, when they got to town, Mary was ready to hatch so they tried to find a flop. No such luck; with folks pouring into town, getting a room there in Bethlehem was like trying to get a room in Green Bay when they are playing in the Superbowl.

After knocking on every door in town, some old fart running the local rent-a-barn soaked them good for a spot where they could snore with the horses. Problem was, Mary was about to hatch.  She dropped the kid, wrapped him in a blanket and put him in a horse trough.  Then she and old Joe hit the hay.

While all this was going on, some guys were hanging out in a field, looking after some sheep. They were laying around noshing, talking trash and looking at the stars when a strange looking dude started floating around in the sky.  “Whoa! I told ya you put too much poppy in that pipe!” said one.

“Dudes!  Chill!” said the floating guy, “Don’t get your drawers in a bunch, OK?  I’m not here to sweat you.  In fact, I’ve got some news for you: If you beat it over to Bethlehem, like right now, you’re going to find this little kid sleeping in a horse trough.  Now this kid puts out some real righteous vibes.  Kind of like a guru.  But he’s cool, man; he’ll never mess with anyone’s wives or kids, and he won’t make anyone drink the Kook-Aide, either.  So,” said the glowing guy, “I strongly recommend you guys to go pay a visit — and bring some nice stuff with you too.  OK?”  With that, a bunch more glowing guys showed up and they all began to whoop and holler, jump around and dance.  They they split.

The sheep-watchers sat there looking at each other.  “Uh, um.  Did anyone see what I think I saw?” asked one. “You mean the guys in the sky?” asked another, pointing up.  “Yup,” said a third. ” OK, then we ain’t nuts,” said the first.

“Well I gotta tell you, they freaked me out in a major way.  I don’t want to get sideways with guys that come and  go while floating up in the sky, so how about we boogy out and go see this kid?”

“Good idea, man,” said the second guy. “In fact, I’m gonna stop off at the gob shop and see what they got that might smell nice.”

With that, they were off.

When they got to Bethlehem, they asked around.  Some old bag pointed them to the horse barn down the street.  “Try that place,” she said.  “There a kid in there what’s been bawling it’s head off the last two nights.  Can’t get a wink of sleep,” with that, she slammed the door.  Going into the barn, our three boys caught sight of old Joe wrinkling his nose as he washed out a filthy diaper.  “Yo, Joe,” said the first with a cheery voice, “We came to see the little dude.  Where is he?”  Without looking up, Joe pointed to his left where a supernal effulgence came from said horse trough.

“Gotta be him,” nodded the second as they scuttled over with their presents.  Peering into the trough, the three then looked from one to the other and in one voice said, “Cute little bugger, ain’t he?”

Outside the barn, in the darkest of night, a small star went nova.

Eight days later, they bobbed the kid’s dick and the rest, as they say, is history.

Well, that’s better, don’t you think?  


A Way Bad Dream

13 November 2011

I had a way bad dream last night.  It went like this.

Jo and I found ourselves in a place where a desirable plant (weed?) was growing in a cavity of a tree-trunk. As I took a closer look, I noticed some bugs emerging from the mass that had been tucked into the cavity. At first they were grubs, then they grew into small bees, then they transmogrified into wasps and grew large and one became two and two became three and three … They began to stir – began to buzz and flex their stingers. Without warning, they burst from their hive and flew around. I grabbed Jo’s hand we ran like hell.

We got away from that bunch and ended up at a barn-like building where we began to talk with a fellow in overalls. He was like an exterminator and told us all about the bees/wasps. They were dangerous, he told us. They could easily kill. One had to be exceedingly careful. –And they were everywhere. They could pop up here, they could pop up there. One never knew. We went into the barn and saw them again; the walls were covered with them. Again, Jo and I ran like hell.

For the next while, I saw these damned things wherever I went. It was always the same: First no bugs, then little bees appeared, then they changed into wasps and multiplied. And they chased us – well, not so much Jo as me. I would run away but Jo followed, trying to help.

Now for the worst part. Jo was in the other room (kitchen?) and Toots, my cat, was sitting on my lap. When I looked at Toots, I noticed something funny about her right eye – gad, the bees were growing in it. As I watched in horror, they once again turned into wasps and their numbers burgeoned. As they filled her eye, it grew to the size of a tennis ball. I was sick with terror. I had to get out of there. As gently as I could, I put Toots on the floor and ran for the door.

Then I heard Toots meow. She was following me. She’s my little buddy and I have never denied her a cuddle, never failed to give her some quality time when she asks and she has asked often. But not then. She was bringing the damned wasps to me.

I don’t know if Toots was suffering or not and truthfully, I didn’t care. The only thing on my mind was getting away from the wasps. I squeezed through the door and was trying to run and Toots was calling to me and trying to follow. I turned and pushed the door shut on Toots, pinioning her between the wall and the door. I was screaming at Jo to come help. When she came out from the kitchen, I asked – told – Jo to keep Toots away from me at whatever cost. In my desperation, I even told Jo to crush Toots with the door, if that’s what it would take to keep the damned wasps away from me.

I was so ashamed of myself for asking such a thing, but I was in pure survival mode. To keep myself alive, I was prepared to kill one of the living things I love most. To stay alive, I was ready – no, more than ready – to betray that little creature’s trust and affection.

I started to scream, then I awoke.

I hope I never have another like this.