me: we sit down for Christmas brunch at night cos we'll be in church all day starting at midnight and i digest the most mouthwatering roulade with frosting. i even start appreciating the lights beaming through my bedroom window, they're pretty and festive and not real, just projections. they stay on a long time. i almost forget to shut them off at 10 cos i'm exhausted waiting in my bed for the ceremony to start. little did we all know that across the way from our house the neighbor had just died in her house. my mom and she were the bestest of old friends. that freaked me out, i started thinking about my own mother and her tears and her sudden span of free time, and that i didn't want to be around if anything life-changing major happened in the family. i wanted to be as far away as possible so it wouldn't impact me. we only had the lights on that one night. we didn't want to be showy in this moment of somber.
Auverin: you can't escape. California has earthquake faults longer than the state lines.
me: i'm from Hohman.
Auverin: i want to see a selfie of you in a pink bunny suit.
me: only if I get to be naked underneath.
Auverin: what kind of tree was it? that last year?
me: silvertip. that was my nickname in college. wait, this is the one place my usual line doesn't work! perfect for hanging huge glitzy ball ornaments on those impossibly strung-out needle hooks that get stuck under and destroy vacuum propellers.
Auverin: you know there's a story about this place. this library is haunted. as the prospectors with forked beards tell it, early on in the 1800s there stood a massive tree where this property sits now. it was so big and oaky anyone who came in contact with it would yell YES!, swale and hilly and swarthy alike, farmer and tourist. the villagers needed to booklearn but they were still environmentally conscious and didn't want to damage the tree in any way. you couldn't slice the tree skinnier, that would slice off its grandeur. a compromise was reached. the library would be built around the tree. some say that the tree never died but remains the very backbone of this institution to this day. inside the white dusty marble pillars of this lighthouse of books lie the original outline of the tree's branches. some squinters say you can still make out the apparition of the white woman beheaded, its guardian forest spirit. but that's just a tale for the Halloween office hours. on some nights, when the moon is wolfy enough, you can still place a star on top of the tree. it's the ultimate holiday tree. if you do it just right, your deepest darkest Christmas wish will come true.
the fireplace at the corner of the library lounge is almost out.
me: you should do a one-woman show. you're not a bad character troubadour.
Auverin: that's not a half-bad idea.
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President Bump is still at that hackneyed holiday display fielding calls from lost children.
Bump: i want no one looking at my bedsheets till they're cleaned. my sheets have a lot of cheeseburger grease on them. if i'm gonna be poisoned i want McDonald's fat to be the dagger.
JUST THEN Gina De Vecchio saunters into the royal room.
Bump: oh my god! oh my gina! is this a dream?
Gina: you called for me, Mr. President?
Bump: yes. but i never thought it'd come true. i'm horrified now that my Melania has seen you.
Gina: what's that construction outside?
Bump: just some tinks. making the Cream House feel more like the Taj Mahal. my casino. please add your grace to this garish mahal intrigue. you with the pointy tits and soft, smoky, squeaky, seductive voice. please be my new First Lady.
Gina: i am hesistant to be a ho. especially this time of year. it's not my fault i'm hot.
Bump: no you misunderstand. and misrepresent. i simply want you to stand in the spot my Melania usually stands and act pretty. you don't have to say anything, just stand in the old spot. my wife had square tits.
Gina: sir, your wife is crying.
Bump: my Melania? OMG, cancel the order, how can this be? can a robot cry?
Lewandowski: can i leave finally?
Bump: the only reason this Corey stayed on, the only reason you adopted any of my policies, and put on the tough-guy street-thug act, and went on tv and acted blustery and indignant, was for access. you wanted the opportunity to fuck Hope Hicks. she's the best piece of tail any of us will ever have. i know.
Corey: i know, too. bigly. but sir, you're not allowed to say things like that anymore, even in a locker room. especially you. i'm a liberal in fact. i'm liberaler than Tom Steyer.
Bump: we're gonna need you.
Corey: for bodyguarding?
Bump: no, you're gonna be our poster child for the boyfriend loophole.
Ivanka, Jared, and Gannon are squeezed into a hot tub together. Gannon farts and Ivanka and Jared jump out.
Gannon: fine. more for me. can you smell that? no, not that, that. the suds. the steam coming off. i filled this tub with a thousand acid tabs. i need to ask myself the hard questions, after i inhale this, why do i keep coming back? i get destroyed by Link every single damn time but i'm always there for the next game!
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THE LATE PHOENIX: I WANTED TO BE FAMOUS. INSTEAD, I HAVE THIS BLOG.
2 comments:
Christmas has a way of making you think about time especially when a death occurs around the season. It always has an impact, even when you’re not there. God bless you, my sweet. Keep the pretty lights on.
The life-giving tree. Mine is outside lying stranded on the tarmac drive but still holding on to its needles and glory. It saddens me. *)
still don't know what the cats did with my tree from last year...
I had a tarmac driveway once at my old house. but Fox Mulder's dad wanted it for something he was doing. it was renamed the Carl Gerhard Busch Airport.
there's only one thing that works for me to combat the sadness this time of year and throughout the year: busywork
love ya, mah dahlin *)
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