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THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME FOR A BEER a sci-fi satire by John Patrick Gallagher
56 original color illustrations by Joe Mauro and web-links to 10 songs
© 2011 John Patrick Gallagher and Joe Mauro All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher and authors, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages. CrimeFamily Publishing 33 Old Field Hill Road #42 Southbury, CT 06488 The characters in this book are fictitious, or reside in an alternate universe. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead in this universe, is coincidence and not intended by the authors.
Dom-Off 1.C.2 1.17 We Wish You The Beeriest 1.8 1.3 The Party That Killed Christmas PART ONE 1.9 Christmas Eve — In A String Dimension Near You Mollycoddled Home.18 Hello D'Oliya 1. Ireland Gun-Molly Raps Enter Pachuco Back In Time — Say Hello To My Little Weed-Wacker Merry Christmas Panties Enter Velvet Vinnie 1.11 Back In Time — Atlantic City 1.5 1. New Jersey 1.14 Back In Time — Hoboken.4 1.2 The Meet P.1 Not So Long Ago — The Greatish Escape .Table Of Contents PROLOGUE P.20 I Wanna Believe In Santa Claus 1.19 D.1 Little Stevie Hawking P.10 The Pig 1.12 Whinos 1.13 Enter The Capo 1.7 1.6 1.1 1.3 1.15 Evil For Dummies 1.21 86'd PART TWO 2.16 Panic! Panic!! Panic!!! 1. Sweet Rudy's Seven Years Previously — Dublin.
4 3.6 3.9 Multiple Universe Transition Devices Rule Home Again.16 Lounge Lizards 2.17 Beer Run.7 3.7 2.3 2.14 Dreams Of Easy Street 2.5 3.8 3.3 3.19 Rescue Me 2.2 3. Home Again Keystone Kops Construction Company Santa-tized Don't Whizz Into The Fountain Bathroom Break Gotta Get Warped Secret Weapon Santa Claus Ain't Coming This Year 3.13 Back In The Same When — Pachuco 2.1 3.4 2.5 2.18 Get This Christmas Started 2.2.10 Ice Cave Fever 2.11 When Pigs Attack! 2.12 Back When — Jersey Louie 2.2 2.15 D'Oliya — In The Same When As The Back When Before 2.6 2. Rudolph 2.8 2.20 Damn! PART THREE 3.9 Partying In A Winter Wackyland Dance With A Dolly When Pigs Fly Angels Who Want To Get High Adventures Of A Teen Terror D'Oliya's 'No Choice' Choice A Man And His Trashbags Molly Blows Boston 2.10 Molly Wii-Wiis .
12 I'm Gonzo 3.18 The Santa Seduction .16 Plan B — The Santa Trap 3.17 Silent Night Bar Fight 3.11 Chuggalugging Again 3.3.14 Once More Into The Breach 3.15 Plan A — Launch The Clydesdeer Missile 3.13 I Couldn't Think Straight 3.
the young genius was killed in freak accident. As an experiment. which turned out to very unusual properties normally only found in black holes and reality tv. They were so amazing they made her tingly in her tingly places. Manny was the man who achieved perpetual motion.PROLOGUE P. The concepts he came up with were mindboggling. Unfortunately for Manny and his world-string. she let him catch . This tragic event returned Professor Hawking the top spot on the Most Smartest list. That was the one where the man with fastest synapses and the most efficient neurons was a library-educated grape picker named Manuel Aguilar. She adored him.021 more times by the Energizer Bunny. Up until the Big Epiphany. one evening. At this particular time. Just listening to Little Stevie speak through his voice box thrilled her. In almost of them. Stevie's intellectual parallel existed in all the known universes. the smartest man was named Little Stevie Hawking. He discovered it while trying to develop a new strain of Sauvignon Blanc grape. in this particular string of one of the 11 to the 11th universes. The best times they had together were when he would chase her around the lab in his souped-up wheelchair shouting risqué equations at her. Poor Manny and his world-changing apparatus containing the genetically altered grapes were unaccountably run over three times by six oil tanker trucks and 2.1 Little Stevie Hawking The young woman was about to rip off the smartest man in the world. She even thought his wheelchair ruled. a version of Little Stevie was the Numero Uno Smarty-Pants with the exception of one String. Hawking's pretty intern had been having a wonderful time working with her scientific idol.
Professor Hawking use of the data not only validated his multiple-universe string-theory. Atomic bombs could only destroy a world. but she deemed his work too valuable to completely destroy. but determined his theoretical work could have real world applications. Real world consequences. "That's it. brought him his malt whiskey." his voice box vibrated with emotion. The Physicist deemed the results too dangerous for anyone else to learn about. the result of Hawking's discovery could destroy a billion universes. If engineered to its potential. and limericks. his trusted intern. Everywhere and everywhen. shred and burn any hardcopies that might exist. It was a discovery more dangerous than the splitting of the atom. Molly Walsh. He found it very inspirational. That's it. "If this got into the wrong hands. and it worried the hell out of him. The biggest theft of all times and spaces took 90 seconds. hypotheses. and bring him a triple scotch with no ice. Little Stevie knew what that footnote meant. Stevie asked his trusted intern to wipe all of the hard drives in his lab.her. They included it as a footnote in their paper published in the Journal Of Irregular Scientific Movements. He worked for weeks extrapolating from the data from the Cern scientists' work. That's it. It was during this particular hands-on experiment that he shouted. cosmos-shattering consequences. ." which it was. Molly Walsh was also able to copy Hawking's collection of Katy Perry videos. Because of the manipulatory inspiration. theories. postulates. It was the concept that would dwarf all his other discoveries. Multiple-string. The same CERN Institute scientists who had discovered a new measurement of the antiproton’s mass made an unexpected finding in their antimatter "God Particle" experiments. The data that could change all the worlds in all the universes was copied to the memory stick so fast and took up so little space. it could destroy reality as we know it. multiple-universe. Dr. double erase his emails. theorems.
The mob boss liked it old school. red lapel rose. a time when you could give a massacre as a Valentine's Day gift. dark shirt with a red tie. deeply scoopnecked. was dressed in his signature pin-stripped suit. He liked being a throwback to an earlier era. She couldn't possibly know that Louie owned the abandoned brewery on West 30th Street. The situation was turning out pretty much as she thought it might. These local muscle-heads couldn't have shined the Kevlar vest of her lifetime adversaries. Can't you pronounce. At least she didn't until she saw them when she casually scoped the room. Amateur night. She could see the mustachioed mobster was carrying. She wore daisy dukes to show off the full extent of her long legs and the good sized blue sapphire displayed in her pierced belly-button. and a Fedora. cut-off top with the words "Druids Rule" curved across her braless boobs.2 The Meet The meet took place in neutral territory. He didn't know that Molly Walsh had come by last night and wired the place with enough explosives to blow up Cheyenne Mountain. It was a chump's gun. The top slipped off the shoulder to reveal a butterfly tat on the top of her pale left breast. He was. Louis Augustus Como. A big tell-tale bulge. . Or at least that's what Louie thought the young blonde thought. The muscular wide-body should have know a . Molly didn't know the gangster had two shooters in the rafters.44 Magnum was not close to the most powerful handgun in the world. 'Glock'? Molly had outfitted herself like a silly college girl. She noted that both of the gym-victims crouched behind big I-beams that were in range of the smaller explosives she'd set. although Dirty Clinty fans seemed to think so. dippy blonde who dressed for the boys. aka Light-fingered Louie. the Brits' SAS murder squads. To all appearances a cute. She wore a neon orange.P. She completed the outfit with bright green running shoes with yellow laces.
"I like the one about how the Pope stole the Solstice celebration from the Romans and turned it into Christmas. It pulled apart to give her a short fire-hardened wooden knife for close work. Molly Walsh was also wearing a bright pink 'Hello Kitty" backpack. I admire your work on them. She also wore an oversized watch. If he wasn't after her to collect." Molly's pretty face showed surprise. three smoke grenades and her lunch of a strawberry yogurt and a banana. Mob boss Louie Como had a bad rep according to her Uncle Ownie. Hardly anyone had read her blog. it was actually a detonator she'd designed herself and had built by the best bomb maker in Belfast. Quietly harder. While it looked like a Diver's watch. She was definitely not carrying weapons. "I've been wanting to meet you. or to extract revenge for the losers he'd sent to collect. "Not about your man Bruno and the basket cases?" "No. Hell." said the guy doing an impression of a pin-stripped tank. nothing scared Gun-Molly Walsh all that much. This old hood didn't scare her. The Vatican and the Church Councils made Christmas out of pieces they stole from every religion that didn't worship cows. She was no mouthy college kid trying to weasel out of her debt and a triple homicide. Actually. She had the Google Analytics to prove it. . begging to make a deal to put off the inevitable. He wasn't buying the cutesy "I'm just a ditz " look. what did he want? "I read your blog. Very professional for a kid. Molly looked confused." That was true. which is why she wrote things on it she probably shouldn't have. Her hands and feet were just as lethal as the antique Druid blade her Mutha had given bequeathed her after her untimely death. But this tough wide-bodied dude gave her shivers. At least Louie had no idea her backpack could hold all that. and we had the biggest piece of the action. She didn't think it'd be a good idea to mouth off about being called a kid. After her experiences in Belfast." "I know." "I thought you might. She looked softer and came off harder. so she didn't disagree. You wouldn't think it would hold a Mini-Glock. a sawed-off shotgun." "Not just the Romans. Molly had a wooden Celtic medallion hanging around her neck as if to draw attention to a nice bit of cleavage. She wondered what he'd read." "But not for the reason you think." Molly didn't reply.Louie gave the 5' 6" blonde with a green streak in her hair a good looking over. Light-fingered Louie Como pointed his cigar at her. She was also relieved. but we Italians were the first. in two months she could legally buy cocktails in the joints she already went into to buy cocktails. Molly Walsh wasn't what Louie had expected.
"The equipment you bought with my sixty two grand is hardly fiction." "If you can really understand them. He just smiled. anyway. I printed them out. In my case. shit. And copied them to disk." said the young blonde. "And your help with a little project I have in mind." "I don't." Whoops! "You did?" "Brilliant. "Oh. of course. the sixty-two you borrowed from my late unlamented associate. fingering her watch. Did you make all that money from your gun-running biz while you were at Columbia and MIT. Gun-Molly? " She thought. Would you be wanting an autograph?" "I want my sixty-two thousand. then when I get home. It's science fiction. Louie continued." said the gangster. I think I'll be deleting them. but she took her fingers off the detonator. Bruno. Miss Walsh. "A String Dimension Controller? C'mon."I also read your posts on String Theory. but I think I get the basic theory." "Yeah." "Don't believe everything you're reading on the Internet. "I didn't completely grasp the equations. Along with some other interesting facts I dug up about the life of the author. "What do you want?" "Sixty two thousand's worth of the action. that's not fiction either. I don't believe everything people tell me. But I'm willing to work something out." responded the frowning babe. either." ." "Too late." She didn't say anything." She said nothing. And the 190 grand you put in yourself for your experiments." "I'm flattered. :We can if you do actually have a working String Dimension Controller like you wrote those blogs about. right. The old mofo had her." "You understood them?" He smiled at her emphasis on the word you.
the English Parliament actually passed a law abolishing Christmas. the Beatles. doesn’t it? To understand why this particular time of the year is mega-party time. January 16. But it has always been a time of rituals.P. 4:34 am Christmastime wasn’t always what it is now. when back in 1647. Yeah. near December 22. In the northern hemisphere. we might think more time to party. many cultures the world over performed solstice ceremonies. Lord. Kinda makes you want to jump into the olde Wayback Machine and dial in 1646 in London to get your jollies in the Party That Killed Christmas. The Romans called their Solstice Dies Natalis Invicti Solis. and get drunk. When we think longest night. Yeah. and damn if it didn't work. feasting and generosity. and the halls of the houses were decked with boughs . the Winter solstice is day of the year. Riotous merry-making took place. when the sun is at its lowest arc in the sky. Many. You don't know Marduk. And while much of the Christmas culture is Northern European. It has changed significantly over the years. science. The Mesops held the first 12-day festival of renewal. and Manchester United combined. let's not let the sun get any lower. the Mesopotamians may actually have been first. But when an ancient guy with the education of an Oklahoma Baptist cheerleader thought longest night. the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun. and hope to god when we wake up that the days will get a little longer. because the holiday had turned into one big orgy. What can we do to bring back the sun? Better do some rituals and make some sacrifices. Never heard of Marduk. At their root was an ancient fear that the failing light would never return unless humans intervened with anxious vigil or antic celebration. designed to help the god Marduk tame the monsters of chaos for one more year. you need to understand the science behind the holiday. It is the longest night of the year. which is really no big surprise when you think about it. evergreens. The days started getting longer again. because his name was outlawed by the Christian Church. Traditions of today such as candles. From way before Joseph and Mary's son picked up his first hammer and saw. The Roman midwinter holiday which evolved into Saturnalia was both a gigantic fair and a festival.3 The Party That Killed Christmas Posted by Molly Walsh. Please. feasting and merrymaking. The holiday has had its good times and bad. he was bigger than GaGa. he thought “let’s not let this dark night get any longer. The low point of Christmas may have occurred in jolly olde England. huh? Back then. Yes." They did just that. are echoes of a past Pagan holiday that extends many thousands of years. unvirginize some 14 year olds.
In other word. they incorporated them into their new beliefs. probably because of some Church influence. jewelry. the Christians stole Saturnalia from the Romans and renamed it Christmas in 247. of course is when old Dazh started his return. We lost the why of the celebration of the Winter Solstice. elf-lovers. the Giver God. but it has continued to have a special place in home celebrations of middle-aged women wanting a shot at their neighbors' husbands. calling it All-Heal. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la la la. Now we come to mistletoe. Who can pronounce Shchedryk except a Ukrainian? Hey. Roman schools were closed. the oak. Mistletoe is still forbidden in most Christian churches because of its Pagan associations. but different English words. we lost some of the deep connection of our celebrations to a fundamental seasonal. Believe it or not. .D. wearing fantastic hats. It played because people were already celebrating something a whole lot like it. who'd want to? So it is obvious to everybody. it should. Kissing under the mistletoe was a pledge of friendship. With the coming of Christianity to Ukraine in 988. aka the sun. the elements of the pagan Winter Solstice were overlaid with Christian stuff.of laurel and evergreen trees. candles. It has escalated from a theft to a con. Somehow along the way. Roman temples were decorated with evergreens symbolizing life's continuity. It refers to the god of generosity. and people drank mead around the bonfires listening to minstrel-poets singing ancient legends. That's not all. it made sense for the Church to also mark this period as the celebration of the nativity of Christ. Great Yule logs were burned. dolls. The Carol of the Bells is based on the Ukrainian carol called 'Shchedryk' which has the same melody as today's Carol of the Bells. To hang it over a doorway or in a room was to offer goodwill to visitors. that to make what we call Christmas. hemispheric event. we got ripped off. The Celtic Druids also regarded mistletoe as sacred. danced through the streets like it was Gay Priders infiltrating the Macy's Day parade. The word 'Shchedryk' means the 'Generous One'. it did not make it to Western Europe. Christmas as a holiday has stolen more rituals from more religions than politicians have stolen votes. Let me tell you about the first real Christmas holiday. bringing good-luck gifts of fruit. We lost our cultural heritage. Friends visited one another. Lamps were kept burning to ward off the spirits of darkness. No. the army rested. Thinly overlaid with a manger story. by the Emperor Aurelian. December 25th as a Christian holiday was first decreed in 274 A. but people who make their living out of religion. Druid priests cut it from the tree on which it grew with a golden sickle and handed it to the people. It is what the Church stole from the Romans to make their holiday. to be hung in the doorways as good luck. Plants were ceremoniously cut and a sprig given to each family. cakes. In other words. In pagan Scandinavia the winter festival was the Yule. the Dazh Boh. It was believed that the Yule log had the magical effect of helping the sun to shine more brightly. To this day Ukrainians sing the "Shchedryk" during Christmas season. 274! Since the nonChristians viewed this time as the rebirth of the sun. and incense. Mistletoe was sacred because it mysteriously grew on the most sacred tree. Processions of people with masked or painted faces. That. and no criminals were executed. Does any of that sound familiar? Well. Dazh Boh's feast was on the winter solstice. the people did not forget their ancient customs.
who brought gifts of gold. In conclusion. The tradition of presents goes back loosely to the Three Wise Men. I think it is time we returned to the basics. they were the first to design their window displays around a Christmas theme. stayed open until midnight Christmas Eve. gifts were given. but they weren't anywhere near as central a part of Christmas as they are now. while I am a huge fan of Christmas. in 1874. That was the start of the gift-giving craze in America that spread around the world faster than a computer virus. Yes. Macy's. Saturnalia Rules! Or at least it should.Let’s talk about the con of Christmas Gifts. Seven years later. . The practice of buying large fancy gifts for Christmas Day didn't really get rolling until Macy’s made the greatest marketing move in history. the major department store in New York City. Frankincense and Myrrh to the infant Jesus. and crank up the volume on what is really a pagan party on the longest night of the year. In 1867.
My dream. Esther twirled to music in her head more than to the Chuck Berry Christmas tune on the jukebox. One drink and her blood alcohol was over the legal limit. I guess. The cowboy then proceeded to shoot and kill his way to get the girl with the big ranchero.PART ONE 1. There was very little room between the bar and the booths. once told me that L'Amour's Westerns were the most popular books in prison. but she was even . a Colt 45. the American dream. Esther scared the recycled beer out of me. Esther was almost 90 years old and her 86 pound body was as permeated with alcohol as the rock candy in the Rock and Rye bottle that Vickie kept behind the bar for her. a bad-ass acquaintance who'd just gotten out. throwing sentences at my blog. One I'd read at least nine times before. mostly because she didn't have enough blood inside her frail frame to make a Bloody Mary for a vampire. and an attitude. Hanky said it was 'cause L'Amour heroes were all past-their-pull-date cowboys who started out the books with nothing but a good horse. Hanky-Panky. and 140 character holiday witticisms at my tweets. Between Googling around. the chances she'd grab me to dance were up there — up there with the chances of a crack addict needing money to get something to eat. too. The rest of us in the dive bar thought of it more like a self-demolition derby.1 Christmas Eve — In A String Dimension Near You I looked up from my paperback to catch Esther's act. I was reading a Louis L'Amour book. If I got up out of my booth in the back of the bar. We all stayed way the heck out of her way. so it was lucky she was so tiny. you know. Old Esther was happy to dance alone. Esther flailed her little stick arms and kicked her little stick legs like she was being puppetted by a hiccupping meth tweaker trying to hold back a sneeze. The cute old stick lady in the cute green skirt and reindeer sweater danced alone under the Christmas lights that twinkled only because there was a short somewhere in the wiring. Esther called it dancing.
red mini-skirt. Gianni Pasta." Vic was flying at Mach 2 toward a guy in a Santa costume who I'd never seen before. Tai Chi on speed. The times Esther had caught me in her talons. Odd-ball characters Damon Runyon would have envied me knowing. Esther danced over in a ludicrously provocative way and ambushed the surprised newbie. hanging out in Rudy's Bar on Christmas Eve. the hot barmaid. even back before WW2 when she'd perfected it. pro and prosumer. Vickie the Bartender would have to call an ambulance and it might slow us down in getting our next round. Freestyle jitterbug. Little George. yeah. Actors. I found out how she liked to swing dance. that is. Oldsters on SSI who lived to brag on their medical problems. some of who even acted. "Hey. How could I have missed her coming in the door? Esther sure hadn't. Everybody had their eyes on the dancing girls. I heard Vickie the bartender yell. lifting up my arm and twirling underneath. but most of us hadn't worked since before the recession. even if Rudy's had achieved the dubious honor of having been voted New York's best dive bar. my much read paperback. who remembers my name and remembers what I drink. Ramrod. Why else would an up-class babe like that choose to be a downscale saloon like this on Christmas Eve? I mean. A spinout its way toward an inevitable hip break. The scurvites of Hell's Kitchen. Actually it was Patton Lee Beaugus. Unemployed musicians. which is whatever beer is cheapest. Hookers. Yummy. The young babe was dressed for the holidays in a simple white blouse. Dealers. Songwriters looking for a cut to reinvigorate careers that were never vigorated. semi-hopeless men of leisure looking for a warm place to waste away a winter evening. Home for the holidays with all my loved ones — meaning alone in a divebar in the big back booth with an old Mac Powerbook. and candycane thigh-high stockings. The pretty young blonde was a surprise. Then there was me. the Colonel. and the Fartful Dodger. All the guys at the bar had turned and were watching her. Probably. and a cheap brewski. I knew most of them. We were semi-retired. Panama. Men with families who would not speak to them. by sight at least. I'd have liked my friends to call me Paddy. Esther yanked on the young lady's arm. if I'd ever found any. even the old ex-con Westies who didn't fear much of anything. That was the kind of barflies we were. Maybe this particular girl-on-girl was not what they had in mind. Men whose only friends were bar buddies they'd known for years without knowing their buddy's last name — unless their last name was all they went by. Guru. was trying to check her handheld and was seemingly in a hurry. She had her own style. All of us were scared that when Esther fell and cracked one of her brittle old bones. They seemed to know it. . Working class. Then there’s Dandy the Manager who looks like he stepped out of a Barbershop quartet. You could see the fear in their eyes. The girl who was wearing a short fur jacket worth more than the wardrobes of all the customers who'd been in this year. I was Bogus.happier to find a partner who could catch her before she fell down trying for a move that was hair-raising as hell. I must mention Vickie. Georgie The Hat. semi-employed. Some way before. Regular Hell's Kitchen people. but it was as close as it was going to get on this particular Christmas Eve. Like me. to use the restroom. A girl-on-girl show was what these guys would pay beer money to see. Old Westies. Dudes with handles like Jersey Mike.
They were past their pull-dates. dropped her coat in a smooth move. If I had thought Vickie needed help. I know the feeling. so he could glom onto it without anybody noticing. "If you don't play. This phony Santa was no wolf. Nick-TheChange to go but the rest rooms — and the backyard patio that was closed for the season. replacing the ones the evil nuns had taught me. I didn't need to do anything. The young lady smiled at the sweet old nut job. that took a lot of maneuvering." and "You gotta know when to fold 'em. but three of the Westies were in his way. which were cheaper than my old girlfriends. The young woman's look was almost as hard as the Westies. "You picked up Esther's money. of course. having to deal with the trickiest of the Hell's Kitchen tricksters bent on coming into the gin mill with five bucks and trying to spend eight hours drinking. And which had no exit. Except for me. I might have got up and tried to do something. Like he hadn't put his fake beard over the bar change. they probably will be someday. Nickalike spun around and sprinted for the back. being the only Cub fan this side of 7th Avenue. He was dead-ended." Esther and the hottie stopped. He almost knocked Esther off her feet. well. Even at Rudy's prices." Most of my other seven commandments are lyrics from country western songs." This philosophy has been so successful that I am hanging out in a dive bar on Christmas Eve drinking cheap beer. But I digress. Besides having commandments." These guys had looks that would make a wolf cringe. The young blonde even twirled Esther into a dip. The old broad and the college-looking kid were really cutting a rug as Esther sometimes called it when she wanted to sound hep. and started cutting the swing dancing with the rock'n'rye-ing octogenarian. The old St."Put down that money. The Santa at the bar tried playing dumb. but the young blonde swept our dancing queen out of the way. One of my commandments. eating free hot dogs and Googling "Santa's helpers celebrity nip-slips" on my Mac just in case there were some new Lindsay Lohan posts since this morning. The ones that aren't. . which gave us barflies the biggest thrill since the '69 Mets had won the series." Vickie wasn't buying it. I also have a philosophy which is my third favorite tweet. which I what I was good at. She gave me a twenty and her change was right there. The red suited thief tried to make it to the door. She knew all the tricks." It is my third commandment after "It's five o'clock somewhere. but then I thought about how there was nowhere for St. but they still had the flat blank stares that said "We've put down tougher scum than you. Esther would not let go of her dance partner. I started to get up to stop him. "I only picked up my change." she shouted. is "Stand by your bar maid. you can't lose.
and stomping on the Sick Mick's foot. I mean. the digressions. She might have hurt herself against the side of the table but she had just enough oomph to launch herself above it. Face first. From behind. while wailing on St. they dragged him by his red pants the length the bar. Like a swimmer diving into the pool for a 100 meter freestyle. When she stumbled a bit sideways it was directly at me. She slammed onto the table and into my computer and my beer and me. Nick ran past her. but her hand knocked my beer right onto my chest and lap. we all applauded. Nick." My beer! My last beer. "Sorry for spilling your beer on your vest. Nick around. Somehow she ended up sitting in my lap.BTW: I digress a lot. She had been such an elegant dancer. Esther's dance partner deposited Esther on a bar stool. He'd thrown her in my direction. She moved out of the way." she yelped as she came flying in. "Help. even I am. or maybe a little higher. She jumped right in. Just me. knocking down his sidemen. I think she would have kicked the ornaments out of Santa's sack. you know. When the boyos came back into the bar. and to buy her another Rock n Rye. At least out of fight action." she said. She glanced back at me and seemed to change her mind about joining the magilla. Anyway. as the St. but she seemed to sense the Westies behind her. We watched the rest of the fight together. the Sick Mick had had enough when she inadvertently swung St. slowing only to make him return Esther's cash. in the gut. It almost looked like she was trying to get in the way of the Westies. Hell. I was the one who needed help. She squirmed excitedly on my lap. It's how my brain has wired since high school when I tried to get high by pouring Annie Greensprings Strawberry Wine into my ear. She managed to twist her body to cradle the computer. red vest and blue jeans. The guys deposited the red-suited loser in the dirty mushy melt that ran down the Ninth Avenue curb. I mean. the Mick grabbed her around the waist. "Uh…" I replied. like accidentally head butting Mayo. He spun her around and out of the action. My last beer! . but the damage was already done. but I wasn't complaining. She was still on my lap. She'd spilled my last beer! All over me! My last beer splashing my seersucker jacket. and then moved quickly after the faux Santa.J. "Thanks for saving me. It didn't take long now that the girl wasn't helping. Finally. seeming to relish watching the Westies deliver Hell's Kitchen justice to the grinchy guy. elbowing T. I suggest you try to get used to them. Only there was no pool. but no longer squirming. but this girl was a bigger klutz than… well. After the would-be-thief was properly chastised. her nice behind leaning on my table. I don't expect young ladies to fight like Jackie Chan.
Maybe my luck had changed! Upon reaching her cute hooded jacket. She hung the vest up on a hook over the booth like it was a red flag. yeah. except maybe mentally. uh…" I said articulately. She seemed to understand without me explaining. "Okay. She quickly unbuttoned the three buttons on my red vest. She said how sorry she was again." "I. They were all still cheering the Westies. two beers. but she was still atop me." she said handing it back. while the old gangsters gave them an instant replay which looked more like a Three Stooges routine than the WWE. She spun me around and yanked me out of my seersucker jacket and vest. If there were a Hell's Kitchen Christmas Beer Drinker's Trophy. She said how sorry she was as she pulled me out of the booth. She sent a couple of quick texts. Laundromated. WTF? I was too flabbergasted to speak. "And I'll pay for the cleaning. "The jacket's not wet at all. "Is a pitcher okay?" I grinned like a guy who had just been pardoned. She started toward the bar. Nobody noticed us. Like ever. . I can't remember getting anything cleaned." I lit up like a Christmas tree being torched by my psycho brother. She was strong because I'm no lightweight. William. but dry-cleaned was not a phenomenon that occurred on my financial astral plane. I grabbed my belt before she could depants me in front of everyone and reveal the effect of her lap squirming. Ten in a row.My reflexes tried to make me jump up and head for the bar before it was too late." I actually laughed. A pitcher would last me to midnight and I'd have reached my goal of seeing one more Christmas morning from my booth at Rudy's bar. tonight I could have retired it. she reached into the pocket and took out her handheld. then turned back. "You must allow me to replenish your beer.
Wow! Then she sat down with me. from the back booth. well. Abnormal was the norm. except for the backyard patio. Actually. I noticed the dancing or the fighting or the flying through the air had unbuttoned more buttons on her blouse than should be unbuttoned. but I didn't want to embarrass her. Join me! This was so mind-blowing. after a week's snow storm from Nordic Hell. Two glasses! The beautiful.2 Mollycoddled As she was walking back to the booth. I couldn't enjoy it to the fullest. Me! Sat down right there next to me. with the too open blouse. Before sitting down. Another untypical part of the evening was the weather. right? The pretty young lady. Gentlemanly. Except for the babe. the young lady bent over and poured us both a pint. only usually without guys in Santa suits. after an unseasonably warm day. although some of the patron's drinking togs made the Santa outfit look absolutely Wallstreetish. Of course. I didn't really give a care. I didn't feel but a single. Play was our only work. so it wasn't all at typical. it was typical evening in the best dive bar in Hell's Kitchen. Okay. At me! . and like that there. I thought about saying something. was returning with a pitcher when I noticed she was also carrying two pint glasses. Typically untypical. It think the great outdoors is overrated. Like Ramrod had these leather chaps and…. I quickly closed my browser before she could notice my research into Santa's helpers nip-slips. She smiled at me. intelligent. Uh. Odd was better than even.1. But that was this bar. which was closed anyway. sophisticated. It was a warm Christmas Eve. tasteful. young sex-bomb was going to join me. The nice day was a nice Christmas gift from Mother Nature. never mind. very small regret about not having the whole pitcher to myself.
that was okay with me. Assuming I could come up with seconds. It was one of those crooked little smiles that if I were under 30 again instead of double that. porcelain skin. pretty young women with shoulderlength strawberry blonde hair. Or maybe she wanted something. .She sorta smiled at me like she knew me. Whatever I have left. I knew from experience that it only meant she needed glasses badly. it would have meant something. If the latter. and pretty legs in pretty short red miniskirts and high black boots can have with seconds.
1. The ones who had dates and marriages that lasted longer than a weekend. the kind of hotshot Upper Westsiders originally from Nebraska and Indiana. In addition to all this. I could walk down the street to the market and bring back a jar of Planters cashews without Vickie or Dandy giving me the evil eye. then took a sip of the beer and said. But they weren't here now.” “Yes? And to what would you be yessing me?” . Her unbuttoning revealed a matching red bra under her thin white blouse. They'd drive out us real customers by ordering expensive drinks and actually tipping in bills. NYC. Back to the young lady in the red miniskirt. just us regular day-drinkers extending our holiday celebration into the night. I said. But wait! There was more! I got a free WiFi connection to hook up on the web. and hot dogs that were the freeist — with mustard.” That’s all she had to say.3 Home Sweet. the damn curve breakers in high school. Rudy’s had everything including beers. a restroom that wasn’t the cleanest. You must know the kind of people I mean. I guess because it was Christmas Eve in the early evening. which were the cheapest in a six hundred mile radius. You know. if I wanted to go upscale using my EBT food-stamp card. I could get a power hook-up. it’d be Rudy’s Bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Rudy's If I could afford business cards with an office address. “Hi. Rudy’s was practically heaven for a semi-almost-not-quite-derelict blogger and amateur tv producer like me. which I need because my old battery lasted about as long as the prayers of an atheist. “Yes. She took a look at what looked like an iPhone or a GPS device. and if I timed it right so I get this big booth in the back. it wasn’t as crowded as it usually is with Uppies. Pricks with office jobs and nice apartments who enjoyed slumming at Rudy's.
No." I smiled at her joke — what I thought was a joke. “May I be checking out my email correspondence?” “Sure. as neither is any more impressive than my other attributes. the bartender. It's called an iMust. She smiled. I was blue-toothless. "Are you?" “Yeah. and the current status of Santa's delivery schedule. I hoped the girl hadn't seen it when she was grabbing it on the fly.“Whatever." "It also has the apps for weather. there weren’t that many pretty ladies to get hip-bumped by.” “The easiest. It's a wee bit more specialized." "You mean mp3s?" She frowned as she scoped out the bar as if to determine where she was. Instead I said." I asked. time and space locator with an app for multi-target acquisitional GPS adaptable to the current string.” I wanted to say something really witty and charming. Why play hard to get when there isn’t that much to get anymore She bent over a bit letting me ogle the lace on her red bra. And a transporter. Of course. "Doesn't your iPhone get email. "It also plays compressed audio files." I laughed. Maybe there were computers that could transfer data on a bump or an incantation. rubbed her finger across the top of my Mac. other than Vickie." she said. I resisted.” I considered making a comment about the speed of my hook-up and the size of my ram. Nothing did.” The blonde leaned over. She had a nice smile. I love this bar. "Are you executing a task of importance?" she asked. She bumped what looked like an iPod onto the side of the Powerbook like she expected something to happen. "Don't want to miss him. Like a Christmas tree that’d just been watered.” “I think you are too easy. she couldn't have. although she once hit me in the face with a bar rag. and asked. “Yeah. She sat down at the booth and gave me a bit of a hip bump to move me over although it was a booth of a size that could hold a basketball team. . “Are you like on the internet?” she whispered. "Ah.” I agreed. Mine couldn't. "This? It's not an iPhone. you are correct. locations of every pub in this world that is a nexus of improbability. I told her I was just tweeting. She smelled a bit like pine." "Really? What's it do? "It's an inter-dimension parallel universe. although in truth I had just found a new Lindsay Lohan nip-slip to bookmark. and I only got hip-bumped by Vickie in my fantasies.
Not a lot of me is still working. Molly's email must have been good news because sighed a big sigh. which drew my attention once more to her red bra. Or when I'm going to pay them back." she answered like it was a secret. At least my dreams. "And in selling out from the beginning. I wished Rudy's had a slower internet connection. Hey. I assumed Mayo.” sez I. Yes.J. always looking at a glass that's half full and saying the bartender probably spit in it. I barely glanced at the soft pale skin that was showing between her red-striped stockings and what dreams are made of. in my most non-committal manner. I was glad the young lady was downloading a rather large number of large files. too. The babe's email name seemed to be Gun-Molly. Vinnie says we'll get Bass.. I know I’m a dirty old pervert-derelict-barfly." . “I don’t know too much about gangsta rap. Yes. it was half a minimal amount of silk. I gave them one of my patented shit-eating grins that makes people want to pound me into beer soaked sawdust. and have to be the Bassholes. and he'd got to me early. She looked like she was thinking about what to tell me. I peeked." She hesitated. In my imagination what she was doing went at least as far as frolicking fingers. he believes in aliases. Our leader Louie.” A truism I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.” “You’re a rapper?” I asked. "Have I heard of you?" "Not yet. BuddaBings is the name we want to use to score a deal with Budweiser. especially those not expressed. but I guess I am a singer-rapper. maybe she just typed.. “Only to me. ranging from curious to nasty. and asked if she could download some files. I felt like there must really be a Santa Claus. if not a mature mental age.” “Oh. the Adams Family.” It was a perfect Christmas Eve. the Colt 45s. which I don't think works all that well. uh… group. "Is your download important?" I asked. because Louie has contacts their from his distributor franchise. We've also got versions where we punch in the MillerLites. No family to bug me — asking insidious questions like how/what/why/who I'm doing. and the Sick Mick would sell the wheelchairs they stole for their mothers to buy this babe a drink. are one of the perks of being a pervert-derelict-barfly of a mature chronological age. and the Coke Fiends. It's his philosophy. but my imagination was as good as it was at twelve. The old Westies at the bar were giving me a number of different looks. From their looks. and I have yet to hear it mixed. “I'm still finishing my doctorate. So. And to the. "I recorded a rap break for a new Christmas carol.” “We’re more gangster than rap. Okay. I was so gentlemanly. I’m nosy. which was really improving my Christmas spirit more than the shortedout Christmas lights strung around the bar. and the other half was a generous amount of her.I watched the hip-bumper as her fast fingers frolicked over my keyboard. T. Just me and pretty stranger wanting to download something on my old Powerbook. but that's Vinnie. which she said might take a "bit more of my computer time". it sure 'nuff worked. No friends to buy presents or drinks for. “Take all the time you want. I believe that having dirty thoughts. She looked at me like the malleable sucker I am. At least I didn’t spend the whole time checking out her red half-bra. For the first time.
" She just smiled at my blatant dishonesty. but she had great green eyes. you just repeat a part of what was said. I stuck out my paw. the PartyMob. Well. even in the best dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen? I glanced at my Mac’s screen. I tried to think of another conversational grabber beyond. When she returned with a cute little white fur jacket with a hood. as if she approved of it. "String Theory is quite interesting. At least it was better than 'what's your sign?' or 'do you come here often?' or 'didn't I abuse myself to your photo on the cover of Maxim?'. at least the ones I hadn't seen for a while. “My name is Paddy. so she couldn't have been in NYC that long." I said.I didn't understand a word. I didn't think she was from around here.” “Molly. given that some of the riff-raff are even riffier than me. are you?" I queried." she said. A few even raffier. I wondered if it was true. She didn't seem to speak Hell's Kitchen English. even if it doesn't be getting us a sponsor." she answered with a smile.” As you might have guessed. or she used it as a conversation stopper. "Gosh. don't you think? All the dimensions and possibilities. I'm sorry. . I've learned that when you don't understand something. Her face became animated.” She offered no last name. "How long have you been out?" That one served me pretty well with the other customers in the bar. She hadn't said 'fuck' once. Cool. That's when I accidentally hit the power key with my elbow as I reached for my beer. not an actual question mark. Still rebooting. “I am reading theoretical physics. I noticed that it her download was almost complete. Then the speaker won't be able to tell how gormless you are. I said. If my eyebrows could do that I'd be the favorite on America's Got Talented Eyebrows. "Yes and no. but how would a gormless guy like me know? "I think I should get my coat. My eyebrows made a question mark. At least that's what I think." she said rising from the booth. What? Do you think women in New York City give their last names to strangers as strange as me. "Uh. When she headed for her coat. This was a good idea in that leaving something unattended in Rudy's is not the best move. "My worst nightmare is being one of the Heinies. you're not from around here. which actually isn't as easy at it sounds. We have to reboot. The PartyMob works best for me. this was not a conversational gambit I could field. “What are you studying?” a lame opening I used to use ineffectively back in the last millennium. I noticed no one had spray painted 'Animal Murderer' on the back of it. that's for sure." "Yeah.
I liked her smile. .
The six fires she'd set had already evacuated the building. In mayhem in general. and now…. She had only thirty feet to get to the door that was her planned getaway. She slipped on a discarded piece of pineapple pizza laying in wait like a claymore mine. The Garda reached out. With her other foot. Not a brick crashing into the Church of St. The authorities would know who she was. The food factory destruction was fine. As she ran from her cover behind the rubbish bin. It was a traffic tie-up the teenage freedom fighter had orchestrated with the same expertise she'd used to set the fires. evacuate the building. and Jellied Eels. GBNF specialized in pub fare like Steak and Kidney pies. and probably the number of lads to whom she was a near occasion to sin. and Molly Walsh had worked hard at both. but it was nothing compared to what the church had done to her people. the destruction of which would have been a sacrilege. freckle-faced Molly Walsh had a record — a rather long one for a 14 year old. it deserved to die. She'd done a better job this time. She flopped on her skinny bottom. which didn't matter as much as Michael McThurkell's Pub on the other side. Molly made the door on her hands and knees.4 Seven Years Previously — Dublin. They were stuck in traffic on O'Connell Street. The explosion broke windows for six block around the Great Britain Nosh Factory. textbook in fact. "Stop!" yelled the Garda. As a child in Dublin. He had her foot. The building came down exactly as she's planned it. Not that her fighting skills were anything to ignore as a many boyos acting the maggot had found out. She twisted around and started to crawl toward the door. She'd gotten away. Curried Kipper. her record for violence. but bomb-making in particular. her status a prodigy lay elsewhere. which meant she hadn't gotten away at all. She'd taken out some stained glass windows in the Church. It was a brewery which had the audacity . where she lived. she unleashed a kick that put the shocked policeman on his back. She worked her way through grade school as a runner. Ireland Fourteen year old Molly Walsh was smiling as she waited in the cold Dublin rain for the explosion. Both of her parents were killed by the Brits in a thwarted attack on a British Brewery in 2004. Red-headed. She was shaking as she clumsily locked the three extra locks that would keep out anything but an RPG. She'd learned that what was important was to obliterate all the supports and let gravity have the rest of the fun. It lay submerged in a puddle two steps from the door. But she'd been seen. While she did well in school. a traffic jam caused by a queue of over 100 cars outside Paddy's Public House which just happened to be serving free Guinness. Brit food so bad. The Fire Brigade had not yet arrived. Straight down. Molly didn't stop.1. Toad In The Hole. she was spotted an officer of the Gardaí. Molly Walsh had been a prodigy. She slammed it behind her. Brendan next door. but the policeman saw her bright red hair and her freckled face as clear as the big letters in the Book of Kells. Explosions were both an art and a science. She couldn't help herself looking back on her handiwork. the Dublin police who are considered by the Irish to be the enemies of all good men.
She could memorize the schematics for the most intricate explosive device. Unless there was a package that she couldn't open because it just might send her on a one way trip to Druid heaven. and breakthroughs in modern brewing equipment. Her missions made it critical that she be safe as she traveled the streets. fail safes. their work did not go unnoticed. . arming mechanisms. Molly carried the messages in her head. She was. While her parents died patriots. she had to leave that all behind. The Meánscoil was also an IRA training facility where she studied hand-to-hand combat and Irish dancing. Anyone who bothered her would find themselves on the ground with Molly doing her favorite number from Riverdance on their faces. At the other end of her path she could draw the schematics like she was an AutoCad. The London brewery closed in 2005. Now. Bomb Making and Gaelic at St. The messages Molly carried were important to the IRA. Grimonia School. The young Irish patriot excelled in Math.to brew Guinness in London and call it an English beer. remote controls.
budda bing bing. if you like reindeer. We made our move on the holiday groove. the BuddaBings now own Christmas! Say u want a tree? U gotta go thru me. Yeah. A lot of things in this world make no sense to me. You gotta buy them horny flydeer here. so I ignored what she'd said." That made no sense to me. I liked that. not quite gulping as she did so. budda. The last shy young woman in New York City. card or bling. or her bra. budda. . Budda.1. U wanna hit the mall? Yeah. Christmas anything. so I ignored most of what was going on around me. I listened to Molly's Rap on the headphones I carry around just in case I find a lost iPod looking for a loving home and a man who would appreciate it. budda. the stripes on her thigh-high striped stockings. So we make it clear. we stole it all. "It's just the rap section of Chuggalugga Christmas. She nodded.5 Gun-Molly Raps “Can I hear your song when it downloads?” She turned a color red that went neither with her mini-mini. stocking.
Nobody wanted to punch me out. Not yet. nobody had tried to get me to pay back a fiver they’d lent me in a moment of weakness. ." I liked it. anyway. "You need to audition the entire composition to be completely understanding it. Even the red duct tape on the vintage plastic seats made the booths looked festive. It was too good to last.She watched my face like she cared what I thought. . Eat your hearts out. The blinking Christmas lights were giving the whole crummy dive bar a feeling of the days of the Lemon Drop Kid and Dave the Dude. So far. bar scum! It was such a wonderful Christmas Eve. I would have told her it was good if it were atonal Rap Opera in Swahili built on truck engine loops and samples of Homer Simpson farts. As I glanced around. I noticed the old bad-asses at the bar were giving me dirty looks. Of course. "That was good." "You really think so?" I looked into her big green eyes and nodded.
considering he was wearing a fluorescent yellow rain slicker dripping with rain. His expression gradually took on the kind of look people who are comfortable in the Oak Bar get when they step into something… something like Rudy's." "MoNat. This dude's slicker was even brighter than the slickers they gave us patrol boys back in the day when I'd try to get the cute girls to pay a toll in kisses for me to help them across the street. but his eyes moved like lasers. "Not yet. checking out the joint." said Molly. “Howsitgoin. but I didn't think it had been raining. frowning down on Molly and me. "You're right on time.6 Enter Pachuco Suddenly. I flashed back to the punishment session." he answered in a flat voice. Even if I didn't notice the wet pork-pie hat or the flat stare he was giving me. "Louie?" he asked. this tall dude in a pork-pie hat was standing there." answered Molly. I couldn't see the front widows from the back. as my court-appointed shrink had once suggested." "Lucky. Pachuco?” my cute new friend said brightly. I think that was what warped me for life. She checked her handheld. and not the incident with the school nurse and the rectal thermometer. he would have been hard to miss. There was a tornado on 8th Avenue. The big dude looked around.1. . getting lectured by the principle and losing my patrol boy gig. His head didn't really move much. "Walsh.
" she said pointing to my Mac. Pinky and the Brain. but not yet. Pachuco didn't want to let up on her. Molly said. and Homer Simpson squeezing the pee out of Sponge Bob. incongruous actions splashes off the charts. He said as he removed his slicker without turning his back to her. Back there is the East Poll."This place? Really?" " 'Tis. I noticed his yellow slicker had subtle matte yellow images on it. "I was number 7 in Little League. like people often speak to me. She introduced us. This is the place. We have to transition later. "Going into an op with the right personnel is critical. The answer is everything intimidates me. Holding the device toward him. the one I use on a new acquaintance who might buy a round before discovering it is against my religion to buy the next one. pretty women." She shoved her face into his. This is the string. He spoke slowly. "Hey. back from where I'm dead. and you want to risk it all on a barfly." I said proudly. You are out of your league on this." As I looked closer. "Him?" he nodded my way. "I know. It's already loaded." Molly was not intimidated. She said holding her digital device toward him." "Back there?" he nodded toward the back door to the patio. They were funny cartoon line drawings of Ren and Stimpy. leaned over." He nodded down at me without reaching out a hand to shake. she said." "Louie's. gunny." I said in my friendliest suckupiest manner." He ignored the device." Maybe Gun-Molly Walsh was not intimidated. Same as Mickey Mantle. big ass-kickers. "If you say so. You might wonder how a person like me can get intimidated by a dude with a yellow patrol boy slicker with pictures on it of Ren farting. This is Paddy. ex-cons. and got in her face. Everything. but I was. "Back off. This is The Guy. "I come across strings. or washroom attendants in hotel restrooms where I'm not registered. . Not just smart women. "His gradient for unexpected. "Pachuco. young women. right?" I wanted to say "I resemble that remark. And this is the key transitional device." but I found that humor built on the Three Stooges classic lines sorta kinda lower my credibility when I have a shot at borrowing money. "Number 7?" the tall guy asked. This is my operation. "Yes. Although if this dude appreciated Stimpy humor and knew all the words to Happy Happy Joy Joy….
you can do it by blowing into them like a 7 piece jug band. Louie was the one who asked me into this op. "That's why Louie brought me in. We're partners. if I wore it unbuttoned or pulled in my beer gut. For a measly four bucks I could take it home without even trying to stuff it down my pants when Captain Masterson wasn't looking. maybe his purple pinstripped zoot suit wasn't that out of style. even if nobody in Rudy's Bar seemed to." They stared at each other. Walsh. I explained. I got my seersucker for only four bucks at the Salvation Army because it was after Labor Day. The big guy was trying to stay cool. the kind of looks that I've gotten used. . until he shot you in the gut. "You drink down the beer in like 7 bottles until the beer is like all at different heights. "Xylophonically. I’ll show you." He shook his head again. then smoked a Cohiba as you bled out. Insult me or my mother. It even sorta fit. and make a new instrument. Well. "Really." said Molly softly." They still didn't get it. I know my seersucker jacket was way cool. 'tis my call. "That's my job. too. "Play an instrument?" "I play the beer bottles. I almost melted. Molly seemed to accept that. I thought it was like festive for the holidays. but not doing a very good job of it. my beer xylophone scam had failed. or that my blue t-shirt had a mustard stain that resembled the state of Texas. "Don't worry. So they have different tones. You play them with a couple of spoons like a xylophone.When the dark skinned stud with the pencil thin mustache took off his slicker he looked like some kind of time-warped dude from the Zoot Suit riots.” There were no moves to take me up on my offer." He glanced over at me. Molly said. He just shook his head. Or if you want to go an octave down. nobody could tell I'd repaired the ripped lining with duct tape I'd borrowed from the sticky vinyl seats at Rudy's. "Pachuco is our music producer. you want this seersuckered beer-sucker as our go-to guy?" asked the big Pachuco. I came very close to speaking up. you drink them all. "Sergeant. Before they get warm." "You were back when. Once again. As long as I kept it on. but not my one good piece of sartorial splendor. although. If you buy me 7 beers. So many people have looked at me that way so many times over my long career as a genius nobody understands." "Little girl. in this bar." he said." They both gave me stunned looks. She turned to me with such a pretty smile. it might have been more appropriate in one of the gay bars up the street.
” After noticing her sc-fi gun. Then he used it on Guru Jonz when the poor guy fell asleep on the bar. who was still standing over us. "Aren't you pushing this a little far. was that in her pretty hand was wrapped around a small strange-looking gun that looked that had suddenly appeared out of her high black boots. And her panties were all pink and Christmassy. which is a 'no-no' even in Rudy's. It didn't seem as cute. When she turned back to him. And it had a big blue sapphire on the end like at the end of a sword. Pachuco. now. a little fast. Weed-wacker??????? Pachuco didn't like what she'd said. He reached over and grabbed her by the shoulder to turn her back. she wasn't smiling any more. opened up the long zoot-suit coat." Molly said turning away from him and towards me. I looked down from her pretty face at her pretty stripped stockinged leg which she had lifted up onto the taped up booth seat. Walsh?" "I don't have time to dilly-dally or we'll miss our next window. A very nice thigh it was."Partners until on your string. What the hell kind of person carries a weed-wacker like it was Excalibur? . No. I mean sleeping on the bar is a no-no. The tall dude. “This is my op. that was the coolest weapon in Rudy’s since the Sick Mick had turned his electric shaver into a taser and tested it on Rammy's dog. you took his head off with your weed-wacker. Wow. it looked more like the weed-wacker. Molly had mentioned. I couldn't believe I was seeing a weed-wacker. busy admiring other things. Not tazing a guy for cause. What I didn’t notice right away. somehow. She put her hand on my shoulder. Maybe it was another sci-fi weapon. Hanging inside his long jacket was some kind of stick. It made her little red mini-dress show about as much pale thigh as possible." she answered. Mine. I could see why she picked her email name as Gun-Molly.
Nobody wanted Mexicans. for god's sake. He was screwed. His Dominican mother couldn't land him a job as an office cleaning person because what company would invite a 6'3" Mexican/Dominican with a juvie record to roam their offices at night? Pachuco should have gone to college like his best friend Louie. Nobody was hiring. Great heroes. The cleaning company Alejandro DellaVega worked for was laying off. His future found him at 3 am sitting on his parents couch watching The Magnificent Seven. richer sidekick Louie went off to college. Indiana Jones' whip. Pachuco DellaVega's weed-wacker. After high school. His Dominican father could not hook him up with a job as a janitor. Unfortunately. Pachuco looked at his future and saw only prison. Legendary weapons. The boy's hardworking immigrant parents didn't have the bread to give him bus fare. Or Dominicans. Indiana discovered his signature whip while trapped on a circus train inside a railroad car full of one large perturbed lion. Pachuco discovered his weedwacker when he was on punishment duty from the last time he was almost thrown out of the US Marines. Life sucked. The Mexican good guy was an actor named Horst Buchholz. . Luke received his from Obi Wan. Or Latinos from anywhere. he did not receive the baseball scholarship he'd hoped for because of his juvie record. He took another hit on his doobie as the commercial came on.7 Back In Time — Say Hello To My Little Weed-Wacker Luke Skywalker's light saber. They'd rather cast a Jewish dude as the Mexican bandit leader. a film which couldn't even find Mexicans qualified to play Mexicans.1. when his smarter.
Pachuco was sent back to Camp Pendleton and put to work policing the yard. He rose to the rank of Gunnery Sergeant. they had never had been. weed-wacking the enemy weeds that had infiltrated the perimeter and established a forward position up against the sides of buildings. Pachuco committed a few minor infractions which did not bring honor to the 2d Marine Division. What could be sweeter? . their iPhone. It fit on a strap under his long coat. The Marines. He chose one made by the same company that manufactures chain saws. He wished he'd had his old sidekick.The Few. And yes. But on the Commander's whim. people just naturally listened. Pachuco found a home in the USMC. If they had been together. Yeah. Picking up gum wrappers. baby! The place to go to see the world and shoot people while getting paid for it. to help him set up the store for things you can't get at the PX. With only 90 days remaining in his three tours of duty in Bush's Sand Wars. He practiced until he could use it to shave the mustache off a wise-ass in a bar. Louie. He knew the weed-wacker was for him the first time he had it in his hands. lopping off the heads of the dandelions like he was strafing a bunch of unfriendlies with his SAW. The charges against him should have resulted in an Article 15. He could draw it faster than a hip-hop artist could grab his coke spoon. It was like popularity and power on a stick! A man and his weed-wacker. The only time Americans wanted to see a Mexican-American with a gun was in uniform. The weed-wacker felt better than any pistol he'd ever held. And agreed to whatever offer Pachuco decided to make them. a classification which isn't so much about guns as serving as the operations chief of a 180 man company. His Stihl weed-wacker was perfect. The position was known throughout the Corps as the hands on disciplinarian. At least. the Proud. It felt better than the throwing knife the Corps had trained him to use. he'd spend some time testing numerous heavy duty wackers. Pruning bushes. The only things that felt better involved skin and members of the opposite sex. When he demonstrated it on someone’s tie. He thought it prophetic. It was so heavy duty. Better than the grenades which he could throw farther and more accurately than any man in his battalion. they wouldn't have got caught. or the paperwork on their desk. he was spared a dishonorable discharge. After DellaVega left the Corps. Cutting the grass. Louie would have figured out a way to make it pay better. Sergeant Pachuco DellaVega was perfect. it could cut through a baseball bat being swung by an angry bartender. Better than the switchblade that he'd carried since second grade.
I tried to see if there is any more writing on the panties. I must have shown my gentlemanly side by looking away at least six or seven times. Mom had taught me a gentleman doesn't stare. “Would you really like experience the internal joy of having your hydrogen molecules separated from your oxygen molecules in zero point two nanoseconds?” I didn’t know where to look. Her Spaceballs gun was hard." said Pachuco. She sweetly asked him if he wanted his epitaph to be. "The chancer died with his weed-wacker in his hand?" . Uh. indeed. even if she was damn cute." I said closing my computer. belying the 'Happy Happy Joy Joy' on his slicker. "Clydie is bringing all the milk and cookies Santa will ever need. I think Molly noticed me noticing. By raising her leg onto the seat to pull her gun out of her boots. Her thighs looked soft above her black boots and red-stripped stockings. I felt like I was watching a gunfight staged by Tim Burton in a spaghetti western. I noticed her pink cotton panties seemed to read 'Merry Christmas' in very small letters because they were very small panties. This Pachuco dude looked mean. Molly’s eyes were hard.8 Merry Christmas Panties Watching the tension build as Pachuco and the girl were about to go Mano a Molly-o.1. Normally. "I think I forgot to lay out the milk and cookies for Santa." "I don't think so. my kind of woman is falling down drunk and has already taken her teeth out. not taking his eyes off Molly. As their staring contest continued in silence. Weedwacker and a young lady possibly even more wacked. Even his little mustache looked mean. WTF had I got myself into? Here I was nicely beered up in a Hell's Kitchen bar on Christmas Eve caught between Mr. "I think maybe I'd better go." He drew the weed-wacker out like it was a sword. His weed-wacker looked mean. She was my kind of woman. "You really want to play Blood Bath right here? Right now?” asked the big zoot-suited dude with his hand on his weed-wacker. without changing her position. but she turned her head back to stare down the big guy. being of a literary bent. I lied.
which almost made him as tall as Mr. he was semi-subtly recording himself on this iPhone while he serenaded us and the rest of the bar. Or dead.1. He was not only singing. With all the stores selling. assuming they didn't want to get arrested. . "It's the most wonderful time for a beer. It's the most wonderful time for a beer.9 Enter Velvet Vinnie That's when the singing began behind Pachuco. The adversaries seemed taken aback." The Singer was a short dapper dude standing on a beer keg. Weed-Wacker. and ads that are telling you 'Buy that crap here!' He seemed to be singing his song to a Christmas tune I think was called the 'The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year'. They seemed to realize that a bar fight with a weed-wacker against a sci-fi pistol was not the best way to spend Christmas Eve.
There'll be slush in your new shoes and memories of bad news From holidays long. long ago. After digesting his lyrics. There'll be parties to go to with chicks who won’t know you. I noted that while Gun-Molly had put her gun back in her boot. And I just happened to know an importer at the other end of the bar who could provide them along with other recreational stocking stuffers. Nobody had answered him. At least. The tux material was too expensive and much too well cut to belong to a waiter. We weren't used to singing unless it was by atonal drunks loudly wailing along with the jukebox singing 'I Love This Bar' or 'Assholes' — which is the bar's theme song." said the little singer to the three of us. It's the hap . "Merry Christmas. waiters being this bar's usual tux-wearers. All those holiday greetings at crowded bar meetings with people who stink. I thought this short dude could sure benefit from some happy pills in his Christmas stocking. There'll be no mistletoeing with babes who are glowing When girlfriends are near. I thought that might be the reason.” in a mellifluous voice. It's the most wonderful time for a beer. Our singer was a short dapper citizen in a Frank Sinatra hat wearing a tux with a white silk shirt sporting sapphire studs. I thought he had a point there.It's the hap-happiest season to drink.happiest season to drink. she was keeping her leg up on the seat in case she needed to make a fast draw. It's the most wonderful time for a beer! Everybody in the bar applauded. And upchucking out in the snow. I didn't really care why. He repeated “Merry Christmas. .
“Have I missed anything?” he asked.I wondered if his Merry Christmas meant he was reading Molly's panties. Not volunteering that it was the only one of two bars I could afford to drink in. I always seem to be in the middle of two sides of my brain fighting with each other over philosophy. "Didn't you see the name on the door?" asked Molly. "The scientist and I were just discussing relative ranks and responsibilities. "I don't know about this joint. prophetic. It's an ongoing problem I have. or if he was just in a holiday mood. and which side of me was manic and which depressive. "Rudy's? Yeah." I volunteered." I thought. trying as usual to act like a gentleman. "Not if you can read her panties." said the tough guy in the zoot suit. but didn’t say out loud. morals." said the short dude sitting down at the table. Will Red Suit and Horny be stopping in here for an after-work drink?" "It's my favorite bar. even if I’m not. .
although us regulars pretty much identify with it. He turned to the short guy." she said. every one bringing us closer to fortune and glory. Sergeant. then want to get their picture taken with it.10 The Pig "Did you see the Pig guarding the door?" asked Molly like that was proof of something." "I know that disappoints you. The Pig wore a ceramic red jacket. sometimes in semi-erotic positions I didn’t think possible. Sometimes.” . "It didn't say a word to me. I love Rudy’s Pig because every summer a bunch of touristy cuties take one look at it." Pachuco was not convinced. We have completed six transitions already. I heard this was how the old timey bartenders used to dress in NYC's more elegant saloons. I had such much fun playing photographer and director. None of us regulars in Rudy's Bar dressed as well as the Pig.1. and a spiffy black bow tie. well. I didn't even try to accidentally drop their camera or iPhone into my pocket. "It was just some kind of a statue. stop in their tracks. "Your judgment in picking a krewe disappoints me. It wasn't even checking IDs or doing body cavity searches. buttoned high. Walsh. The Pig in front of Rudy's is a six foot two ceramic statue that is kind of a symbol for something I never quite figured out. excerpt for me when wearing my seersucker on special occasions like tonight. "Our number 7 is this old winehead." "You are doubting me and my abilities? After my String-Controller pulled you out of your downhill existence. I like to rush outside to volunteer to push the button." replied Pachuco.
after 10 pm. I wouldn't get caught in a cross-fire I could have enjoyed the excitement." I said. I knew it. What else would you expect? "It's gonna be a bad mutha. I'm a bit psychic that way. "I ran into a snow storm on 42nd Street." "It's been that way since Disney took over Times Square. myownself. "Bad? Bad is good. No talking sponges. Real bad. it sucks worse than the Gumby one. This was not a chap with most positive attitude I'd ever encountered. she remembered my name. Molly took it for granted that she could continue to use my computer. The jukebox underscores my life. the sad songs though. . “I just finished using Paddy's Powerbook to download the data for this String. They don't even believe in the Easter Bunny here." said Vinnie sitting down on the other side of Molly.” I said. "Only on tv. I'd avoided taxes by going underground years ago. She nodded. That was really impressive since I rarely remember it." "I do. "No Toontown. Mostly. hoping to be humorous. A whiteout is what we'll be needing. I have some plans about cheating death that I can only divulge to people buying me beers." Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas' started playing on the juke. defending myself automatically. Even without the guns and weed-wackers and guys singing Christmas song with strange lyrics. "Did you scope out this dimension?" asked the little dude." I said. "Fucker turned into a raging hail storm a block away. "Try the Macy's Parade. The beer is cheaper. The most exciting part of that night of wonder was that Willie Jean bought the tequila. If I were more sure. or a bonehead far goner than I am. I had no objection." The big dude shook his head. even among me and the other Eyores in this hang for New-York-class go-fuck-yourselfers." said Molly. I didn't believe in anything except death and taxes. "Yeah.B. "Man. "How about Santa? You seen him? asked Pachuco. anybody who’d drink the wine in Rudy’s has to be a tourist who went the totally wrong way from Times Square. The only excitement we usually have is when somebody objects to being '86d or the Westies give the dude some help to find the 9th Avenue curb.“Beerhead.” Geez. this was the most exciting thing to happen to me since a hot actress named Willie Jean got carpet-bombed and insisted I drink shots of tequila out of her belly button to prove it was concave it was after her tequila diet." said the little guy." whined the short dude. again checking her handheld. I mean. it's like a metaphysical desert." Actually. anyway." I suggested. The weather. I mean. "Fucked. So I guess I don't believe in much of anything at all. like the red-suited thief. "Have you seen E.?" asked Molly. The little dude raised an eyebrow at the blonde.
Paddy. Molly was pressed up against me.Both the tall guy and the short guy looked like I'd let loose with a silent but deadly. I wondered if Velvet Vinnie was packing some exotic weapon. You’d think a man of mature years like me would not get excited be a little elbow tit. you’d be wrong. “Velvet Vinnie. . uh thigh.” We smiled at each other. The slight bulge in his well-tailored tux made me guess he only had a small piece in a shoulder holster. especially by Pachuco who was still standing over us. Molly made the introduction. It didn't matter. I felt a little boxed in. On the other hand. We were in the biggest booth in the joint. Well.
But he could not collect the $4. Vincenzo didn't break into a victory dance and kiss the nearest babe.1. not counting Sinatra's of course. Vinnie wished she were a football player. as she was known at the PTA. No one wants to be defeated. or shove a grenade up her horrendously fat Philly butt. But then. She said she was comped for two more nights at the Hotel Casino. She probably didn't weigh more than the average pro tackle.11 Back In Time — Atlantic City Vinnie could shatter her kneecap.6 — on a scale of 10. Mrs. Sarah The Terror. The big. he worried the IRS was going to go after him for their share. and then… well. I don't want her. So this bad feeling about the collection was a 98. She bad times. Vinnie had a bad feeling about almost everything. She's too fat for me. and she wasn't checking out. And where did he get that stupid little Justin Timberlake hat? Inside his head. She said so. then audit him. knife her. She left him no choice. Nope. It was insulting. He had to hurt her bad. Loudly. When he won big at the track. "I see the bad moon arisin'. She saw his sartorial splendor and what Vinnie called his "Sammy Davis" shoes as compensation for being a wimp. Vinnie was singing a polka. "You can have her. Simon didn't see the young man in a tux as a threat. He could tear out her larynx. pop out her eyeballs or break her fingers and thumbs. I see bad times…" Sarah Simon opened the door. He walked away… singing "Beat it. Or walk away. indeed. vociferous and domineering Mrs." .450 she owed to cover her casino losses over the weekend. He could shoot her. The lady was 40 something years old and probably did not weigh the 400 pounds Vinnie estimated. beat it. She saw a guy stretching to make 5 foot nothing who weighed about as much as her left breast. it would not be pretty. A pro would be able to tell Vinnie knew how… that he was a mongoose with whom the nastiest cobra didn't stand a Hail Mary. Then Vinnie could hurt the guy enough to get him to fork over what he owed. Vinnie had had a bad feeling about his new gig as a collector. His favorite moldy oldies. I see earthquakes and lightnin'. figured she would sit on him and crush him before she'd pay her blackjack losses. A guy would understand that even a little dude like Vinnie could hurt you bad if he knew how. Hey!" Life to Vinnie was an MGM musical where he played Sinatra. were CCR's "Bad Moon Rising" and "She Fucking Hates Me" by the happy guys in the group Puddle Of Mudd. Simon wondered why they sent the tiny lounge singer to do a big man's job. He could drive the nasal bone into her frontal lobe with the heel of either hand. fat. As he knocked on the door to the "Whale Suite" he was singing softly to the music that was playing in his head. If they wanted their money. they'd have to give her more credit. I see trouble on the way.
Dino. hand-made suits circa 1964. Like an blue whale on chocolate steroids. "She maxed out three of them. which had recently come back into style. Vinnie was a hitter." frowned the under-boss. Bobby's big black glock wasn't a threat to Vinnie. Bobby also supervised the off-the-books extracurricular activities the Casino did not want taken care of by staff. ~ "Whataya mean she said she was going to sit on you?" screamed the underboss. Damn. Joey. Pissing off Bobby and getting his tiny ass fired him from his Atlantic City gig was the threat. Even Angie who looked like she was goosing Dean. Vinnie hated being right so often about things that were about to go wrong. Bobby. and Sinatra hats straight off his album covers. "I don't what I'm going to tell Tommy." "She's the whale. Vinnie." "Vinnie. Bobby wore a Hawaiian shirt that probably meant he was packing. What was I supposed to do? Whack her and call you to get a crane from SeaWorld to haul the corpse away? Bobby sat behind the cluttered desk." Vinnie envied Bobby the large photo of the Rat Pack behind his desk that dated back to the time Bobby was a pit boss at the Sands. Frank." Velvet Vinnie had a gig as a Lounge singer at the Casino where he could sing all the Sinatra he wanted. "Why couldn't she use a credit card like everybody else?" wondered Vin. shaking his balding head. "because it matters to The Casino. Heaven! There was an in-house recording studio where he could work on his latest cuts. Sammy. "Gimme a break. Velvet Vinnie Vincenzo had it made… in a low end kinda way. which was more than an unlucky guy like him could expect.He'd known this was a bad idea from the get-go." "You want me to go back and mess her up? Put her in critical condition?" asked Vinnie. you're putting me in a bad spot here. An underboss of the consulting firm in charge of collections. Her husband is a whale and the bosses don't want to piss him off. not a threatener. Peter. Vinnie. "That's no good." "Then what's a little more chump change matter?" "It matters to Tommy. I'm not sure you're cut out for this. The money from the lounge gig barely covered his cleaning bills. It was signed by all of them. Bobby the under-boss who gave him the collection assignment had picked the wrong guy. Because it seemed they always did. "Vinnie." . We just want the money. He couldn't frighten a paranoid squirrel if he had a hawk on his shoulder. but his real work as a problem solver and crew organizer kept him in silk tuxes.
It was in the world or in him. Or both." Vinnie was late going on. I'm your guy. not how badass you are. "Give me something real to do. I'll come back with the goods. Combover"."You want somebody done. and reedited Vinnie's performance mixed in with less than flattering shots of "Mr." This was not good. The Donald wasn't even Italian.000 views in the following week. He'd consumed enough liquor for both Frank and Dino after a Saturday night set. Fuck The Donald and his disgusting comb-over. You want me to organize a crew for a road trip to acquire some art. If he didn't have the second gig. It beat GaGa but didn't do as well as puppy driving a garbage truck. There were fewer people than normal in the Loser's Lounge as he thought of it. like it was no biggie. Vinnie knew he was screwed. So he didn't deserve any respect at all. I know. "Gotta go." "There ain't much call for real. "You ain't even got a tattoo. Something was wrong somewhere. Some kid copied it off the web." "I know. He remembered once trying to threaten a pom pom girl. Nebraska hadn't caught it on her cell phone camera and uploaded it to YouTube. You want to send me after one of the boys who knows the score. It's about how badass you look. And a pair of newlyweds playing kissy-face and finger games in the back booth. Not until he improved the lyrics to "I Did It My Way. I'm on in 10 minutes. You couldn't scare a middle school cheerleader into giving you her lunch money. "Combed It My Way" had 190." Nobody looked up. It hit 350. Vinnie could not believe "I Combed It My Way" went viral. Fuck Bobby's boss Tommy. Okay." It might not have been too bad if newly-wed Annabelle Georgia Lee from Lincoln. he'd must have put up thirty videos on YouTube and had a total of 87 views. how could he cover the losses at the turtle races? Vinnie forced a smile." "I could…" "Vinnie. It was depressing. Shit. The only question was how screwed. this year. baby. Low rollers. I'll do 'em." "I'd like to dedicate this next song to The Donald. Here he was at a second class Atlantic City casino singing to people who didn't care. Fuck Bobby. retired guys who need their afternoon nap before catching the free bus back to Philly." "I'll see you after the set and we'll see what we can work out. the days of leg-breaking and break-ins are gonzo." Vinnie said nothing. . kid. and Bobby was right. quarter bag ladies. Nobody was listening to the velvet-voiced crooner.000 views in three days. but you just ain't threatening. it was because he'd had two too many Black Jacks with a couple of forty year old groupies from Camden.
it'd never happen. Maybe he could reload some of his other videos and see if they'd catch on. But it wasn't all bad. Naw. Fuggit-about-it. Velvet Vinnie Vincenzo was doomed. cloudy crystal ball. Maybe. . not that he could foresee in his chipped. Maybe if he redid some songs with comic lyrics. he was a one-week wonder on YouTube. It was his fate. Maybe someone would see one of them and… Naw. Naw. There nothing but the same around the corner.He wasn't surprised when he was fired. Maybe it was his break.
They both stared at Molly. "I'm not exactly golden here." said Molly. and you and D'Oliya can't get along. A chance to wack a name-guy. either. I couldn’t figure out about what." said Vinnie." "Didn't you hear? She blew her big gig." replied Molly defensively.C.1. "Me. too. And tonight will be the last of the first. there'll be nothing left for me. . "I guess we all are." said Pachuco. I'm not so sure." "With Vinnie's lyrics. There was a silence at the table as Happiness Is A Warm Gun played on the jukebox. His whole family are pariahs. That didn't make Vinnie any happier. All the friggin' money is digital. Even if I could get back. After smart-ass. He put everything into the caper. "You ain't alone. Now. “We are making a Christmas album. even. "I don't know. I'm all in on this one. or I'm taking up the Rumpelstiltskin. but Louie's liquor distribution and cartage businesses are in trouble. "I'll play my position. "When you and Louie got back in touch and asked me to come into this deal. Access to a new audience. A one YouTube-hit wonder. An easy hit on a clueless target. I’m best at confused. My ass is persona non grated in A. Probably because I was confused. Louie's loan shark biz ain't what it was." added Vinnie. He stared at Molly. I'm blacklisted everywhere." Huh? Gun-Molly and the two members of her singing group had me so confused that I went a record 21. Or let her touch them. If you and Pachuco. If I did pull one off. "I can't even organize a decent heist. A real professionally produced release. there are no great fences anymore. "For grownups. "This damn caper better go off as planned. Her Grand Old Pee-ers won't touch her. "Except maybe D'Oliya. I'm stuck here. Walsh." said the week-wacked zoot-suiter. I'm as dead as Milli Vanilli. too. "if we ever get it done. we're screwed. Unless this gig goes and I can get back into the studio with some new material.” said Molly in such a bright happy cheery voice I knew she must be lying. I'm wanted in every English speaking country but Belize." said Molly. Just little guys eaking by on druggie ripoffs. I'm all in. I thought it might be just what I needed. "but first things first. Every object worth taking has serial numbers or some kind of id they can find from space.12 Whinos Vinnie said. Vin." I must have looked confused." said Vinnie. Louie's old man pissed off the Family by going gay and marrying an ex-governor. A bit of money for a tour." I could go back to Louie like when they were partners. But at least she's in the right universe.24 seconds before taking another sip of beer with my mouth open. I give good confused.
1. "This place isn't anything like Rudy's back home. Vinnie disagreed. " "This is the time. Louie!" "'T'is." "Just a little misunderstanding. “The dog ate my homework. “This can't be the place." said Pachuco. who must have been the boss. the string. “What’s going on?” asked the scary dude.” They stopped a second to stare at me like I was a talking gold fish. "Just getting acquainted." said Pachuco. then Vinnie continued to whine to the wide boy. "Molly and I know. The Pig isn't even checking IDs." countered Molly in a threatening voice. I said." said Molly." replied Molly. "It took me six transitions to get here. I started to tell him that there’s no smoking in here. I mean. Uh. the new scary dude." said a wide-bodied guy with a mustache." complained the little guy. He didn’t look like a person who could take constructive criticism. "It took me three. the place. "Just Mutha Nature trying to pulling our strings back to square one. .13 Enter The Capo I suddenly smelled a cigar as a wide-bodied mofo was now standing by the table.
Dark pinstriped suit. “It’s perfect. And I downloaded our stuff including the cross-string. polite thug was absolutely dead scary." I informed them. In the silence that followed. uh. was wearing a cliché Mafia outfit out of the Godfather. the wide one said nothing to them." added Molly. Black shirt. from the look on his face and his posture. He dressed like a cartoon character. She nodded. Louie asked “May I?” I nodded. who had been introduced as the music producer seemed surprised at Louie's title. Pachuco didn't seem to think Louie was the boss. right?" He knew the web handle I blogged under? "I follow you on Twitter. Patton Lee Beaugus. sticking out a paw. . I have this blog that I call Bar Vivant. Vinnie found a new complaint. as in hint-hint. seemingly named Louie. cocktails and hotdogs. Red tie with a sapphire stickpin. He looked like an ex shot-put champion who kept in shape tossing bodies around instead of 16 pound balls. “Your Powerbook?” I nodded again. "Louie Como. “I’m Louie… the executive producer of this thing. “Decent Wifi here?” He had a look that made me think that shaking my head “no” instead of nodding in the affirmative was a bad idea." Gesturing to the empty bench seat next to me.However. smiling. "The service in here sucks.” said the babe. If the tall Latino was intimidating.” "There's no table service. He looked directly at me and smiled. I wanted to rub up against her like I was a puppy. this soft-spoken. I tweet under the name of PaddyLeeB because my whole name won't fit within their silly Twitter rules. red rose in his lapel.” Molly put a hand on my shoulder like she was vouching for me. which is even stupider than the horrendous name my parents gave me before they left me on the steps of the tattoo parlor. they all did." I was dumbfounded. I used to be PattonLeeBeaugus. Louie frowned a question at Molly. And a red.” Pachuco. "Fully loaded. I mostly write about things I know — like the proper way to off-load after a night of mixing beer. "You're PaddyLeeB. come to think of it." “I’m. cloud upgrades into his Mac. Paddy. Hell. Every time she touched me. The mesomorphic dude. Uh.
When D'Oliya is playing prima diva-reeno and ain't on time. I told you Mutha Nature will try to snap the string back. I do my tv show so I get to go to their live shows for free. so I'm not completely calibrated. and they did the same. Pachuco was equally as reassuring. We're screwed black and purple. I had a website to go with it." "Chill. I get even more nervous. I start thinking of a total disaster that could take us somewhere where you can't get back from there. she checked my computer that had some kind of a map up on the screen. Molly and I have worked it out. Instead of looking at her pda thingie. Besides 9th Avenue has all the gutters I'll ever need. we'll miss the window. "Don't worry." said the short. They tweet important things like how I can save on gutters for my roof. The big mouthed little guy went on a rant. I'm going to text her again." said Louie. "Nothing. but mostly because I followed them to get a follower count. When I see Pachuco and Walsh can't get their who's-doing-what-to-who act together. "I gotta say. And D'Oliya's late. If she doesn't get here soon. you know the channel that let's anybody do anything but perverted sex. Anywhere. and bizarre stuff I swear to God that Lady GaGa steals. when you and Walsh tell me this is The Guy and this is the nexus. man. "We knew from the beginning that this wasn't going to be easy." She directed this at Louie. I ask questions of great literary import like "How large is humongous as compared to big-ass?" I have a lot of followers. "And Louie is the six star general. ." "Red Suit and the Schnozz?" asked the guy built like a mustachioed tank in pinstripe camo. I know my job and I'll do it." "We'll just need to reroute thru another extra string or two. as if the lack of Beta was his fault. She's the mad scientist science officer and I'm her master sergeant. which is." Molly must have downloaded something when she downloaded whatever she had downloaded when I had been too interested in elbow tit to notice. so I mostly just tweet instead of reading the tweets of the twitterers I follow." amended the tall guy with the weed-wacker. I gotta begin to wonder about you guys. of course. but it became like work. original songs. My show it called in-nyc — what's in out on the edge in New York City. I also have this tv show on public access. Sometimes I interview downtown Art Stars who do a lot of poetry readings. Putting the Art Stars on in-nyc and doing rave review sometimes even gets me free drinks. yet. my goal." argued Molly. On my show. "I knew it. Vin. Her reassurance wasn't good enough for the little dude. performance art. "Her signal is not registering. "Did Clydie make the transition?" the thick dude asked Molly. Vin. and we never had the Beta I needed. sometimes I just read my blog or my best tweets.I try to tweet about meaningful things like beer and coffee and my Medicaid. Louie gave him one of those looks. We're cool. Louie. so I let it go. "Purpler than Pachuco's zoot suit. but big mouthed nay-sayer." Louie frowned at not being included.
"I don't know. assuming they had any better place else to go? Almost anyplace would have been a better place to go. "Seems like another world. Are you everyone?" He took one look at my nervous look and laughed." I replied. Tell him I could also write my name. sucker punchers." said Louie wistfully. count to 20 even after I ran out of fingers and toes. My bad. clowns who steal ATM machines." she answered. "You're a funny guy. even more so than the normal Rudy’s clientele of Poligripped Westies. because I always wanted to be evil. which I bet he didn't even almost do. just wouldn't be enough or a big guy like you. What if the TimeWarp don't work? What if Redsuit and the Schnozz don't take the bait? Any of these things go down and we're horses' heads in bed. "You've met everyone?" Louie asked me. I didn't. you know. No sweat. social security impersonators." "We have contingences. The man who had been introduced to me as Pachuco did not seem to appreciate being called Patch by his 'old buddy'." I said. it means they like me. . "Midnight." said Molly "And we got how long to pull it off?" "About three hours. At least I thought I did! "Did my old buddy Patch tell you we go way back?" "Uh. What if D'Oliya is late and we miss the window? What if Clydie gets lost or something? Lost with all the stuff we need. When guys say that to me. The Guy can tell time. I wanted to be smart ass. I wanted to. She ain't the brightest light on the tree. Vinnie continued." Vinnie mumbled. It occurred to me I might have fallen in with seriously evil companions. he hasn't said much of anything." snarked the zoot-suiter. "I got too much at stake. of course. Even Newark! Why did Gun-Molly want me with them? And what was I doing there with them? And why? Maybe it was because I gave off a vibe that attracted evil companions. it means they think I'm a nebbish." When women say that. I'm totally confident. I wanted to tell him I almost graduated from college. George Thorogood's "Bad To The Bone" started playing on Rudy's jukebox. I think my impossibly coincidental music thing was happening again. "Now."Five. What were they doing in a Hell's Kitchen joint like this on Christmas Eve. Sorry I brought it up. and dealers in party favors. These gangsters definitely weren’t from around here. Everybody laughed with him.
"in another dimension." said Gun-Molly Walsh." ."It was another world.
And sell it as your own. New Jersey Louie and Patch began their nefarious careers in Hoboken. But these boys were not one trick ponies. and selling them to other students. Patch said she'd have B-cups. Literally. Louie was his trusty sidekick and coconspirator. He put basketball team captain. got a boob job. was the leader. Too much bad publicity. because everyone liked the young novice. in as Class Treasurer. it was Louie who had all the good ideas — like selling all the school lockers to Louie's cousins. the vice principal. Their only big failure was when they tried to sell the gymnasium to newly arrived Islamists who were looking for a place to put their mosque and weapons cache. The boys may have hung together. Louie never forgave him. ripping off school reports from their classmates. They then ripped off the bake-off recipes and were published by Betty Crocker. rewriting them as their own. Louie came from a Family family.1. During all this time. Their primary modus operandi was thus established. Change it. and took a position on the New Jersey Channel 8 News Team as the 'Beach Closed For Medical Waste' reporter. Patch ragged Louie about who knew the most about women. From their hideout in the backroom of the Chatterbox Lounge in Seaside Heights. Bishop Benzadrino decided it was impossible for Sister Genevieve to drop out without at least competing. not only fixed Louie's wrestling matches. Louie Como fixed his first election. Sister Faustina could not prove it had been Louie and Patch who had filled out the forms and sent in Sister Gen's photo. For months afterwards. Patch DellaVega. they became bookies. They also sold bootleg CDs and fake Military IDs to thirteen year olds. Dirt poor. She was sure it was those two who had entered Sister Genevieve in the Miss Hoboken Beauty contest. Guido middle school. Rip it off. At the St. This coup allowed them to score enough cash on Hall Passes for a weekend on the Jersey Shore. but they were as different as pasta and pinto beans. The boys had no real ulterior motive other than that Louie thought Sister Gen had nice hooters and wanted to see them. they posed as missionaries from Indiana. and in the process. and the girls high school bakeoff. But it was the popular Patch who the other kids thought was the role . When the local papers picked it up. collecting funds to teach basketball to needy Pakistanis. In high school. Patch came from a poor immigrant family. but spelling bees. Sister Faust didn't trust these two JDs further than she could project an eraser out of her butt. Sister Gen dropped out of the order without talking her final vows. The judges couldn't refuse to accept Sister Gen because it would be discrimination against women who hit children with rulers. Patch was proved right as they discovered when Sister Gen competed in the bathing suit competition. As a result of finishing as a second runner-up. but great stems. The boys' nemesis was Sister Faustina. a mini Sopranos with enough lira to buy Louie a Camaro convertible on his 16th birthday along with a garage big enough to store it and 42 television sets that the boys had found that had fallen off a truck. She couldn't figure out why they did it. the star athlete. Patch. Actually.14 Back In Time — Hoboken. and it became a national story. New Jersey.
and got grades almost as good as Louie because teachers gave him a break. They were best buds. which gave Louie a metaphysical jock rash because it hated being fucking Yang. Louie went out for wrestling where he could vent his frustration on guys from other schools. Over his high school career. Buddies for life. Patch's parents didn't want him hanging with a Mafia kid who was destined to follow the footsteps of his father and grandfather. Ying and Yang. Then Ying went one way. But he'd never forgive Louie for hanging the moniker Patches on him in grade school.model for a successful life of crime or sports. Patch had a higher batting average. . Louie got cut. If anybody but Louie called him Patches. setting a conference record that still stands. which would probably disco him into a federal prison. Both kids ignored their parents. he was disqualified from 16 matches while breaking seven arms and two legs. so he quit and ran cross country. and Yang the other. Patch didn't like being a benchwarmer. and considered them as totally out of date and as prejudiced as the Grand Wizard of the KKK. Louie hit homers. they ended up in their underwear. but their families did not approve. Patch made the basketball team. Although generally they didn't compete head to head. hanging upside down from a bridge over the New Jersey Turnpike. but Patch was the sports star. Pachuco was proud to be named after the Latino Warriors of the Zoot Suit riots. Louie a catcher. Both tried for out football. While they were best buds. Patch he could take. who happened to be the school psychologist. where he went to state. they were quite competitive. Louie was the brains. Louie made a starting guard. which if you think about it are pretty much the same thing. Louie's parents didn't want their boy hanging out with a spic. Both played baseball. Patch made all conference. They had standards. dated cheerleaders. It was like being the guy in Aerosmith who wasn't Steven Tyler. Louie had to watch Patch go to the High School World Series from the stands. Ying loved Yang like a brother. They were Ying and Yang. Niggers and spics did not measure up. Patch a shortstop.
"She can do it. "This caper ain't gonna work!" Molly hit him in the arm. It'd have to be a lottery ticket I'd found on the sidewalk. Instead of eavesdropping." Louie smiled. as I saved my money for more sure things. Kinda like this Louie character. too. I'm going to tear out your vocal chords. Frighten little children just by smiling at them. It was something about how the songs with unexpectedly warped lyrics were so important timing was to their caper.15 Evil For Dummies As I sat there in Rudy's with this very scary musical group. Molly making explanations. "If you don't cut that out. and I thought about how I’ve always wanted to be evil. Maybe these gangsters were my lottery ticket that would make my childhood dreams come true. I’ve always wanted to live on the dark side. I tuned out their talk about their tunes and cd release. with a quite a bit of power behind to judge by the wince of Mr. which I rarely am. Be the bad guy. Maybe this was my chance. Velvet Vinnie was irrepressable. Although to be honest. I mean Evil with a capital E. . Wear the black hat. Actually. who was saying something about timing and how they had to get Clydie here right away.1. I zoned out. I'd prefer Fate hit me with a winning lottery ticket. Maybe it was why I loved Hell's Kitchen. like beer. Maybe this was Fate finally coming through for me. Louie playing the HMFIC while Pachuco put a dead look on his face. Positive. Vinnie." They went on and on with Vinnie complaining.
The height of my high school fantasies was imagining a date with Cheryl Mary Slamkowski. which I often am. As long as I didn’t go to confession. little kid and watched Soupy Sales at lunchtime. Jody Lee. with the understanding he’d stand by me in the next. They were checking stuff on my powerbook. Molly did not remind me of Cruella DeVille." so he was my favorite. In high school I did acquire the nickname Beelzebub. even before vampires were all rage on movies and tv.While other kids were practicing sports. everybody had eyeballs except for me. Eternal damnation with fries. I was made! Unfortuitiously. Hook. 'til it turns a tempting green”. but not as evil as performing operations on small woodland creatures while chanting in upside-down Latin. There was Soupy and White Fang and Black Tooth. anyway. I had bright red hair. and talking about doing a reality check and I tuned out again. huh? It never happened. I’d say. I decided to stand by Satan in this life. Well. “henchman. Unfortunately. the date would end with warm. That lack may have been the prime reason I never quite reached the evil incarnate stature of Charles Manson. or the growing of chest hair which I was convinced was a prerequisite for evil. that handle wasn’t earned by acts that lived up to Nazi bedtime stories. The only person my laugh scared was my little sister. “Lo ho ho!” Then there was my favorite movie character. Molly just reminded me of how old I was and how young she was. of which I was glad. to be honest. when grownups asked us rugrats what we wanted to be when we grew up. I’m not even sure if Old Nick accepted it. In the state of grace in time for Communion on Sunday. copperflavored blood dripping down my chin onto her pure white blouse unbuttoned just enough to lay one perfect drop on her white cotton bra! What a great fantasy. Eerie. In my case you could only see the whites of my eyes.” But it was not to be. I never . I listened for a second or two. When I was a teenager I sold my soul to Satan. Joyously damned on Friday afternoon. I just couldn’t win! I’ve always identified with baddies. It made a man of Dudgeon. I was fortunate in that I was raised as a Catholic at a time where an eight year old kid could a commit a mortal sin with cheese on a Friday afternoon at McDonald’s without even trying to be bad. our head cheerleader. I gave it my best shot. He was in the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan — Captain James B. You see. or Howard Stern. sticky. I did. I got the nickname partially because back when I had hair. I’d just read George Bernard Shaw’s play. I learned the words to all his songs… like the one about poisoning Wendy with a cake with “icing mixed with poison. it was more like I gave my soul away. It was mostly because when the other kids took flash pictures. The Devil’s Disciple and like the hero. who was also afraid of her Guardian Angel night light. but it seemed to have no affect on me. Not then. Richard Dudgeon. even though I don’t want to be. Idi Amin. my cousins would say President or cowboy or nurse or fireman or astronaut. starting when I was a little. Hook made being bad so cool! I looked at my drinking companions and decided Louie reminded me of White Fang and Pachuco had a bit of Captain Hook in him. I went to a Catholic School where we had mandatory confession every Saturday morning. I would gladly have become a vampire. Every Friday. In my fevered imagination. which was more often than some of us bathed. White Fang was "The Biggest and Meanest Dog in the USA. Back in the day. I practiced a mad laugh patterned after some mad scientist I saw in a b-movie on Shock Theater. my soul.
Darn it. What I’ve needed all this time is a Handbook like “Evil For Dummies. “I voted for Dick Cheney three times.” I used to think those votes just might be enough for me to achieve my rightful place on the Plateau Of Evil Men. They don’t have anything like that at the New York Public Library. I can proudly say. ha. I’ll bet after all my disclaimers of never making it to the advanced levels of evil. I was never able to lay a wet one on Cheryl Mary’s neck like I was sure she would have wanted her Evil Overlord to do at the stroke of midnight on our first and last date. But probably not. no parking in handicapped spots.” The worst I’ve ever done is to register and vote straight Republican. I just didn’t know how to do it correctly. ha. haa! I know when I stand trembling at the edge of the fiery river that surrounds Hell. and that giant three-headed poochie asks what I’ve done to earn my place among the Evil Damned. you’d have thought I couldn’t have achieved such infamy. I never found a Dummies Book that could teach me to be as nasty as I wanted to be. Over the long boring years of no mass murders. I thought. They made no sense. I swigged the last dregs of the last beer I could afford to buy and ignored them. My table mates were talking about how I was 'The Guy' and this was the place. as I took a sip of… of nothing! . “He Led A Nice Life. I know I could have been great at evil. It seemed they had to make another transition to get Clydie or they couldn't get the Fatman. Ah. once on a absentee write-in ballot for Governor of New York State. Maybe these evil companions could give me my chance! Oh Paddy. I never was bitten by a vampire. I’ve had to face up to it.got the date. At evil. no human sacrifices. Or even on Amazon. I’ve always been pretty much of a non-starter. You’d have been wrong. I need that damned book quickly. I never even asked Cheryl Mary out. if the West Pole was in the back like Molly predicted.” While I’ve been a Dummy all my life. or pretty soon I’ll pass away and my headstone will read.com. dream on.
I mean what if Vickie takes a break. think. Paaaaaanic. I had no breath. Paaaaaanic! I needed a paper bag to breathe into. Like a man in the dessert looking at an oasis he can't get to. which I couldn't do. No suckers to borrow from. Empty! Empty!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! I had no beer. Or. Ahhhhhhhhhhh! I had no choice. the worst of the worst. I had no money to buy a beer. Even worse than worse. but who carries a paper bag? Not even bag ladies carry paper bags. NO FREAKIN' BEER! No beer. No credit.1. My lungs were going to explode if my head didn't explode first. Rue Paul looking at the Presidential nomination. No money for beer. and I know because I use to date one. No beer! No Beer! No BEER!!!! I usually order one when I get down to about a quarter. No Beer! NO BEER!!!! I began having a panic attack. I was trapped in a booth of the toughest bar in Hell's Kitchen surrounded by mob goombas from Jersey or somewhere worse. just so this never happens to me. looking longingly at the taps. Thinking of Delbrina made me panic even more. Paaaaaanic. my pint glass was empty. I started breathing in and out of my empty pint glass like it was a paper bag. Think Paddy. It . standing at the bar. even if I could get out of the booth.16 Panic! Panic!! Panic!!! I had no beer in my glass. I could be left for three or maybe four whole minutes. because I was surrounded.
As there are no waitresses at DIY bars like this one.) Louie looked at Pachuco who just frowned. The betuxed one seemed to already know what the others were drinking. I thought this might be my chance not only to get a beer. Paddy. Or you'll end up in Hell's Kitchen in a dive bar like Rudy's on Christmas Eve without the three bucks to buy a brewski." said Louie with a smile. That was to be expected. "I'll fly if you buy. I'd bought the Sick Mick more than a few rounds. Vinnie sang in a Sinatra-ish voice . Mayo. So I wrote Da Mick off as a possible touch. which is about as low as you could get. so I wasn't really going out on a big financial limb.. whose actions were so depraved that she had been permanently 86'd from Rudy's. That's my philosophy. You gotta plan ahead in this world. "What’re you having?” Louie asked. which might earn me a buyback after the Mob split for more upscale pastures. This offer didn't seem to have the desired effect. “Allow me. "Paddy?" Molly touched me again. "Anybody want hotdogs? I'll get those. which she once told me didn't pay as much as you'd think it would. "Fly me to the bar.” I said trying to get up." I replied in authentic Hell's Kitchen vernacular. but to escape being boxed in the booth. I knew what I was talking about there too. My treat. without doing porno with animals. too. When I got back a modicum of control my eyes started sweeping Rudy's bar again for somebody who owed me a drink instead of the other way around. Vinnie's got it.seemed to be working and the beer fumes helped to take the edge off my beer jones. The panic was returning. after all.J. I saw nobody who could help me." which is my mantra and my favorite tweet. "Beer!" I croaked." Of course." "Don't worry. and was like buying health insurance you absolutely positively did not want to get cancelled. Paddy?” Maybe he was as waiter. “What flavor beer. the hotdogs were free." said the mob boss smiling. Paaaaaanic! I went in for another pint of breathing therapy. especially if I overtipped Vickie out of their money. "You want another. because I used to date Chrissy the Crackhead. A very small glance from the wide body directed at Vinnie had the short dapper dude popping up. T. so I was getting claustrophobic as well as unbarleyhopsaphobic. unless you dip into your emergency stash in an impregnable vault disguised as my left shoe. "Are you all right?" I couldn't answer her. . and the Sick Mick were arguing like they always were. and I'll buy us all a brew. (The impregnable part has to do with my socks. I usually sit alone. Paddy?" "Like a crack ho needs a rock. Molly put her hand on my shoulder. “Looks like we need a round of drinks. I decided to sweeten the deal.
I shook my head in both negatory directions. and never give anything back.“Rudy’s Red. "Damn D'Oliya." said Louie. "Too true. "Sláinte!" toasted Molly. The three PartyMobsters looked at each other as if expecting the other to speak. but maybe they stole it from him. They don't call it Hell's Kitchen after the stupid cooking show on tv. Nicholas. Pachuco. broken by Louie. They didn’t look much like a singing group." "It's not like we're a one trick pony." "Or was. Molly was clearly upset. Vickie. Vinnie returned quickly with the drinks. setting a new land speed record for a round trip. like she’d been watching us. and Vinnie. If she doesn't get here soon…" "She will. Vin had double brandies for everybody." said Pachuco. But it was clear. With Vinnie's lyrics. patron saint of Christmas and prostitutes!" "Salud." "L'chaim" They told me they were turning Christmas Carols into drinking songs." mumbled Molly. but they did look like they were in costume. In my case. If so. But mostly we sing about beer. I wondered if Louis was carrying heat like Molly. Other than my pint. As Vinnie did a little soft-shoe number on the way toward the bar. In snifters! I didn't even know Rudy's had snifters. Pachuco shook his head." said Pachuco and Louie almost simultaneously. I hate drinkers who upgrade when somebody else is buying. Mostly beer drinking songs. "She likes to make an entrance. "Take what you can get. there’s a little larceny in everybody. either. not enough to do me any good. which she probably had." added Vinnie. why so? The neighborhood isn’t that bad. "Cue the follow-spot. who turned to me." ." I think Pachuco stole that line from Pirates of The Caribbean. “Did Miss Walsh explain the concept behind our… PartyMob music release?” I must have looked as clueless as I felt." put in Louie. as in no-no. she thinks she's the Dom of all creation. It was an uncomfortable silence. he didn't think it funny.” It was the second cheapest beer. We sing about other booze. "Currently losing money in 10 dimensions. because Louie's the biggest beer distributor in Jersey. too. I admit I considered it. Hey. "To St. the cute barmaid moved down quickly from the other end. but it isn't that good. Maybe the spiffy threads he was wearing was a waiter's tux. These folks had me confused. Louis laughed.
They made me their audience as they sang the silly lyrics. the beeriest. the beeriest. We wish you the beeriest. Beer and more beer. In this neighborhood. Yes. they broke into song. the beeriest Yule cheer. Yes. I felt that wasn't all. probably the part that dreams of beer. which somehow resonated deep with in my psyche.17 We Wish You The Beeriest With absolutely no segue. the beeriest. Beer and babes in bikinis on beaches. Beer and babes. and while I believed they were recording something. And how it involved a lame lush like me. I had that feeling. We wish you the beeriest.1. They sang pretty well. you learn to feel when you are being conned. I wondered what they were really up to. the beeriest. .
The Sick Mick and the swarm of barflies were staring at the door. I noticed that silence had descended on the bar. I thought it might be Esther dancing again.We wish you the happiest. Yes. it wasn't Esther. "About time." . We wish you the happiest. the happiest Yes. the happiest. Molly checked her handheld. the happiest. No applause. No. Silence. the happiest. After they finished. the happiest New Year.
She was wearing a short. my mental underscoring was playing ZZ Top's She Got Legs. with forays into the big backyard patio to powder their noses. and she knows how to use them. Even if I'd thought of it in time. I didn't want to say it in front of Molly. Molly whispered to me. She slinked toward us. It helps that Rudy's jukebox seems to read my mind. She sashayed our way. . She was tall. When she walked. and she wouldn't want to give me any more elbow titillation. and revealing her revealing outfit. which is the kind of thing I always think. just in case it might offend her. "Be careful. and there was a break in the conversation. because I don't think of it fast enough. because she made a production out of removing her dark mink coat. those long legs most definitely announced their presence.18 Hello D'Oliya Posed there was a very tall gorgeous babe the likes of which Rudy’s hadn’t seen since Drew Barrymore’s krewe of supersluts used to hang at this very booth. Louie and Pachuco enthusiastically waved at the babe at the door. But not this time. It was playing Wale's Bad Girls Club. in her early thirties with dark hair and café au lait skin. even if they don't have B-movies anymore. To say she was built would be the equivalent of saying I drank a little beer upon occasion. I think this babe know how to make an entrance. underscore my life like it was a B-movie.1. D'Oliya's trouble. The hottie acknowledged Louie's wave with slight nod. skin-tight dark-green dress with slits cut almost to her armpits. She seemed to know she had the attention of every male in the joint. BTW: I do that a lot." I thought about saying that she was the kind of trouble I'd like to get into. In my mind. but don't say.
To put this in perspective." The lady gave him a look that would have had me bowing and scraping. if those are the correct euphemisms.. Vinnie and Pachuco were reaching under their coats. Oh. She turned and stood over him. "Maybe later. I don't know about that. Hello D'Oliya. back in the day. with her legs spread wide like a linebacker standing over a wide receiver she'd just ground into the turf. Vinnie started singing softly to himself. carried heat. If you have a choice of who not to mess with. In that dress I figured she couldn't have any other weapons other than the ones nature had over endowed her with.." She pushed past him. and apologizing for breathing her air. The wrong people being the Sick Mick and his ex-Westie cronies. Those slits were there to do more than to show off her long legs. Da Mick ignored the signal and stepped out in front of the hottie. Jeez." It was like they understood each other. "Hello. sweetness. . which I did not want to see start up inches from my eyeballs. I felt like she'd dodged a bullet. He was nobody to mess with. pushing hard. and I'll tell you stories that. I wondered if it was a Tommy gun. or a portable Patriot missile. bartenders would pay the Sick Mick out of their tips just to take his custom to some other watering hole. here and there I’ve read about ladies who sashay. Let me tell you that a sashay done in the right way can be very impressive and uplifting. The irregular regulars at the bar followed the progress of the tall babe in the little dress like they'd just put another four quarters in the peep-show meter. She then grabbed his earlobe with her nails and squeezed. "Hello D'Oliya. being a college educated derelict. Looks like you're gonna start it up again. as her referred to himself. I was disappointed Molly didn't go for her gun. knocking him back onto his barstool. I have a great voice in my head. The boyo fancied himself a ladies man. Only he had a great voice. Based on recent experience with the other 'band' members. Now. She gave them a look back. Da Sick Mick is not someone you want to piss off. So what? I don't even listen to my brain. shit-on-the-half-shell. The hottie sashayed up to the table." She smiled back. like my new bar buddies. because I'd liked how she wished me a Merry Christmas. But he just smiled a really big smile like he enjoyed the pain and humiliation. as I learned later. He had a rep as an enforcer and collector. "I'd think I'd enjoy that. a number of body parts no longer listen to brain. an RPG.. Molly looked like she'd have been happy if the dark babe had gotten the full Sick Mick treatment. Or a hail of bullets because Louis. A show me whatcha got. too. The word on Da Mick was he used be a hitman. "Let me buy you a drink. The boyo.The killer babe was dragging something in a three foot long rectangular black case. daring him to get up. while I tried to look down her dress. She shook her head like saying a small 'no'. Hey. of course.. It was a hard look. mess with Texas. Not Da Mick. Too bad my vocal chords won't listen to my brain. The babe saw Da Sick Mick staring." Vinnie must underscore his life. real hard. The babe attracted the attention of the wrong people. and wanted to get their money's worth. What scared me more than a gun was Pachuco's Weed-wacker. which might have been true a dozen years ago. I’d never witnessed it up close and personal in real life before. He used to date actresses. I was wrong. Oh. mofo kind of look.
“I grabbed a brandy for you. "This is not a caper for wussies. just in case. Louie made the intro. D'Oliya came across as you will worship me. too." "It was a bitch for me. It also looked like she pinched his ear in a way that would have had me screaming in pain. the little man seemed to enjoy it. I know it. “I like looking down on you genetically oversized folks. "Hey Doll.” “What a sweetie. Molly will get us through. D’Oliya D'Abo. "No." added Pachuco." Molly snapped. "It's Mutha." said Pachuco softly." D'Oliya looked like she hated taking orders from the kid. No one else did. "We're off course. “Paddy." Molly pitched in. Vinnie offered her his seat next to Molly. Weirdly. She gave him back a warm grin. it's just that now we need to do a dimensional bank shot. And it was raining fish everywhere I went. You know what to do. We're all going to die in the next transition. We are getting more interference from Mutha Nature than I'd anticipated." She looked at me when she said it. "This place lacks class." screamed Vinnie. "I had a hell of a time getting here. "I thought I'd never make it. Your instructions sucked." She checked her handheld. "I fought through a flood around Columbus Circle. You knew it'd be tough. Vinnie turned a light shade of purple and grabbed a stool from the bar and sat across from me further blocking my escape. Molly laughed at my half-witticism. "But it's got more third class than you could find most third world countries. And it seemed all three of the guys did just that. Both had big grins on their faces.” she said as she bent to kiss the little faux waiter on the cheek.” Even Pachuco smiled at that. but the dark babe wasn't having any. I wondered if everyone she met felt the same need to impress this woman.The pinstriped Italian and the zoot-suited Latino both stood up.” At first D’Oliya’s look was cold and dismissing like I was a pizza delivery boy who was not only late. "We have two hours and 22 minutes until transition." "It wasn't my fault." I volunteered. "We can still do it. Both looked like they wanted to do the huggy-kissy-kissy greeting. D'Oliya sipped her Cognac. I feel it. Even second class." said Vinnie. but who had left off her mushrooms and replaced them with really hairy anchovies." . big deal!" Louie replied. While Molly projected this girl-next-door who might let you peek in the window kinda look.
and left without a coffin to rest in. "Maybe a two rail bank shot. Vinnie was losing it. Patch wanted to know how hard that was. To judge by her movements. “Hello Dolly. I asked her how she could do such complex stuff so fast." Molly pulled my computer in front of her and stared crunching numbers. "Knowing the math doesn't mean you can make the shot. Man. slamming data and bending equations. Molly told him that she had the math. This set Vinnie off again. and reconfigured the bandwidth of bar's wifi. Or Einstein could have out hit Ted Williams and wiped the table with Willie Mosconi. She said she'd installed a new Operating System with a virtual cloud burst generator." “Good Golly. or D'Oliya collects guys and handcuffs. She turned on a smile. "Oh. “D’Oliya. assuming that God so little to do that He/She/It eavesdropped on dive bar conversations on Christmas Eve." Molly touched my arm whispered in my ear. "Only Louie can call me Dolly. "A horrible death. D’Oliya seemed to notice how Molly was pressing up against me. ." she replied. "Vinnie collects coffins like Pachuco collects comics.” said Molly. it was a smile that must have been powered by wiggle and jiggle. old Powerbook could do all that stuff." I said. Molly eyeballed her and gives my elbow an extra thrill. pulled apart by 10 dimensions. I mean."That's all?" whined Vinnie." When she heard her name mentioned. I had no idea my beat-up.” corrected D’Oliya.” I said in a small little voice only God and I could hear.
She was dressed in her best business attire with an American flag pin in her breast." "But…" started D'Oliya. Yes. Power not only over individuals one a time. Some guys peed in their pants after taking one look at her. Very entertaining.19 D. A real top level performance. and a coven of born-again ministers. You have all the tricks that make us proud to be punished for the d little white lies we must tell to save America for real Americans. "Dolly. Sometimes they paid her for doing so. Hail To Old Purdue" while she spiked him again and again with a football. knowing the exact moment to take charge and put the interviewer on his knees begging for the whip. She figured she'd nailed the gig as the unofficial Official Dom of National GOP. D'Oliya even went into an erotic end zone victory dance while she forced the Hoosier Congressman to sing the Ohio State fight song from the prone position. Wild Billo. of the National Committee. The was a huge opportunity for a position of power with the National Committee. She might even get a chance to do Loofa tricks with spineratator. She answered the questions perfectly. D'Oliya was the one who normally made others nervous. She demonstrated her craft artfully with a Congressman from Indiana. But power over the people who had power over the people. This time. aka Big Swinging Dicks. It was to be a competition built around a format that combined American Idol with The Apprentice with an appearance on the Howard Stern show. Her experience and letters of recommendations were impeccable. She removed her trademark business attire to reveal she was body painted in the football uniform an Ohio State Buckeye. She was in the final four. Finally. D'Oliya had been invited to interview for the most prestigious position in her field. key staffers. in shock. Not this time. A former advisor to a two term cowboy President explained. Her performance. along with the three others. would be part of an invitation-only intranet broadcast to Congressional office holders. The Congressman sang "Hail. she'd be in the big time. The clientele of her dreams. the leaders of the most influential conservative PACs. Very creative.1. Based on her stellar performances with the Chaplain of the House of Representatives. It could only have been better if she'd had goal post to work with. she was going to be judged by the BSD's.C. A credit to the party. She didn't get the job. it wasn't going to be an interview. Her own suite on K-Street with closet big enough to hold a Greenwich Village toy store. you are beautiful and talented. Dom-Off D'Oliya D'Abo sat nervously in the green room of the K-Street Neo Consultants. . Who could beat that performance? She was ecstatic.
the Majority Whip stopped her. D'Oliya wasn't. You proved that by becoming the number one Dom for Long Island. It's Annie. "Old white Christian men love to be abused and debased by negresses. so the entire House could enjoy it on a Sunday morning before playing hide the golf ball with the big donors. She was like a Colonel passed over for the third time. They had always wanted to stick with the tall blonde skel who'd had the position for the last few years. It was like the U. and she. She's more intellectual.The balding. "You are very qualified. Unfortunately. D'Oliya wondered if in a different universe. most cutting mouth on the planet. She'd had her chance. She could rise no higher in the party.S. whining. would be the Top Dom. ." the white prick from Virginia said. "It's not because you're black. and now another organ. She'd blown it. The Coultergeist had the nastiest. Damn. a fair universe the skeletal Blonde Bitch would have died of anorexia. She could do it at a distance. She knew she had just burned her bridges with napalm. in a fetal position. Her mood morphed from angry to devastated to angry to acceptance. you have not been selected for this National honor because you are left handed and you use lubricants too liberally for Tea Partiers who want the straight hard stuff. You're more physical. But the real reason was that she was in the in-crowd. beglassed little Turdblossom continued. And it was not the enjoyable kind her customers liked. and kick it in the Quo-honies. it was a fix. Army. wondering how many of them she should send to Arlington Cemetery. It's just a style thing. D'Oliya needed a new army. one where she could be the Dom de la Dom. But that doesn't mean you and I…" She made a move and the Big Swinging Dick was on the ground. You were highly recommended by all office holders. NYC and New Jersey. As D'Oliya was walking away. She needed to put the Status Quo into bondage. she just has the verbal chops to turn us to jelly. announced the top Dom was once again The Coultergeist. D'Oliya. You don’t." she said as she walked away. The Coultergeist was a women who could trash talk a Congressman into submission in less than twenty seconds. thought Dolly. on a cable news show." The man who was once a President's brain. "No charge.
If I'd have had six beer bottles." replied Louie. and grabbed for a silver weapon in his shoulder holster. do you have a song about it?” I asked. and yelled. T. Just what I wanted in my stocking… a broken drinking arm. shit-on-a-pizza! A bar fight in Hell's Kitchen on Christmas Eve. “Presents?” "Christmas. There was no escape for me. Hopefully not my last gulp. just like there had been none for the change-stealing Santa. the hottie bartender. reaching for the Bowie knife she used to cut lemons and limes. Frankenstein if they .1. The Sick Mick got up." Everybody looked at me expectantly. or this story won't make all the way to Christmas morning. “You can’t play that in here." said Molly ominously. and to send a message to rowdy customers. Worst of all. you can't. Aw. Pachuco made bass bum-bum noises. “Smart kid. At least I was trapped with a beer in front of me. I would have joined them. The backdoor led nowhere but the big backyard patio. Mayo. I was almost disappointed. and the Sick Mick leaned forward like they were going to join in the argument. is close enough that you sure as hell wouldn't want to be Dr." Vickie said. The PartyMob blocked my path to the filthy restroom. Vickie. it was a semiautomatic keyboard. D’Oliya opened her case and I saw that while it may have been semi-automatic..” said the head honcho. "Five minute warning. then turned to me. It looked like a standoff between the PartyMob and all of Rudy's. adding to my bobblehead repertoire. Paddy?” I sorta leaned my head at an angle. D'Oliya had reached back under the slit skirt. D’Oliya started playing. saw her setting it up. Pachuco was going for the Weed-wacker. Louie nodded. I looked around. Molly shook her bracelet like it was a tambourine. Vinnie got out a harmonica. "We're still too many strings away to track Red Suit. Molly was reaching into her boot again.” Louie gave her a cold. "Well.20 I Wanna Believe In Santa Claus "Have we at least acquired the target?" asked D'Oliya. Nobody messes with the barmaids at Rudy's. I want Christmas.J. hard look. with his hand in the pocket. and retrieved some kind of shiny weapon. Louie plugged a wireless gizmo into the hot babe’s keyboard like it was something he’d done many times before. “You know what I want for Christmas. I took a gulp. holding his winter coat. WTF? Should I laugh? Was it a joke? “Uh. Louie reached inside his coat. which if not exactly a bloodthirsty mob.
Being part of this particular 'us' did not look like it was going to be the most fun way to spend my Christmas Eve. Molly shook her bracelet like it was a tambourine.. I want to believe that it's not too late . I want to believe in Silent Night. Even if I got a free beer. and my beer. in Dickens’ ghosts. maybe just one more little song. D’Oliya started playing. I want to believe. In that little star that shone so bright. Louie completed the motion. I hated being part of an 'us'. I want to believe in Christmas. Alone. if you're not so loud. I want to believe in peace on earth..were storming your castle. Or even two. In mistletoe. I want to believe in eggnog toasts. The ex-Westies sat back down. In Three Wise Men at the Christ child's birth. Us? Oh. Vinnie got out a harmonica. not a parody. I like being just me. pulling out a silver gun. I want to believe in Christmas. out from inside his pinstriped suit. myself. I want to believe in Christmas. Pachuco made bass bum-bum noises. I want to believe. He asked. After all." She turned and went to the other end of the bar where I saw her dialing her cell phone. shits-apoppin'. Louie sang a song I'd never heard before.. no. 'tis the season. The bartender said. but kept their eyes on us. Vickie backed down. “Well. I want to believe in Christmas. Not a rip-off. "What do I want for Christmas?" I want to believe in Santa Claus. Just me. it was a wireless microphone..
Or maybe bad in a good way? Or good in a bad way? I stopped trying to think. I want to believe. I want to believe in that wonderland of Dancer and Prancer and Frosty the Snowman. And that's what I want for Christmas. Maybe whatever they were here for wasn't so bad after all. Where was Ashton? Maybe these folks were for real in some kind of unreal warped kind of way. People in the bar applauded. I want to believe. were ready to pound him into yellow snow. In brotherhood. Even the Sick Mick and the ex-Westies who ninety seconds earlier. I want to believe in Christmas. Thinking only makes me want to drink. I looked around. .for me to go through the Grinch's fate. I want to believe in Santa Claus. an end to strife I want to believe it's a wonderful life. Louie ended the song with a tear running down his cheek. The others look proud.
" "I think she should. I heard other people singing when I came in earlier. "Nice song" He went on to tell us that there was no singing allowed." . Like they sing along with 'You Never Even Call Me By My Name' at Coyote Ugly's. The three gangsters looked at me as if that made no sense at all.” sez I. “They were singing along with ‘Assholes’." I volunteered. I think the only place in the world you can find it is Rudy's. “Everybody here sings 'Assholes." Dandy continued. “A song on the jukebox. which is once reason the dive is so popular among such an eclectic clientele. Well. "Assholes? You've got to be kidding. He did not get any cooperative looks from us. “Cabaret Laws” he said. "Do you believe this shit?" Molly beamed.” I said just in case that particular classic tune wasn’t favorited on their iPods. attempting to defuse the situation.” said Pachuco.1. Rudy’s is off the chart nuts! “It’s a song about Assholes.” said Dandy as if that explained it." said D'Oliya.21 86'd Dandy the Manager had walked in the front door while Louie was singing. a lot of people and things at Rudy’s don’t make sense. He had come over to our table in the back. because it ain't the one by Jimmy Buffet who is also into assholes.” "And the customers can't dance either. "What kind of backassward rules do you have? What about that little old lady who was…?" "Doesn't apply to women over 80.' It’s a Rudy’s tradition." Molly was grinning. D'Oliya turned to Molly. “especially on slow evenings. "It's brilliant. Only Vickie doesn’t dance on the bar.
'except in the backyard patio'. I’d be saved from finding out if these were good bad guys or bad good guys. which made me think 'Oh.” I believed him. no standing on your head the bar. but mostly they figured Dandy could take of himself. "This is definitely the optimum location for our transition. Vinnie was incredulous. He continued.' Oh. Oh." said D'Oliya moving with the song on the jukebox 'Santa. and reached into the high slits in her dress to pull out what looked like small ninja throwing stars. I would have felt sorry for Dandy's dilemma if I didn't envy it so much. But softly because Dandy pretended not to know.” I mumbled. shit.D’Oliya sashayed up to Dandy. Dandy didn’t seem to very good at lip reading. "This place ain't no fun. no sex in the bathroom with members of either or both sexes. I stopped and reconsidered. but no nudity.” He opened his coat and reached for his Weed-wacker. no smoking of cigarettes.” demanded Dandy. "It's just what we need. If he couldn't. "I mean very. “G-U-N-S” because I didn't think "WEED-WACKER" or "NINJA THROWNG STARS" would make it across the no-sound barrier. shit. too. you wouldn’t dance with me?” She was now rubbing her sumptuous body against the flustered Bar Manager. They'd kick butt for Vickie or the day barmaids. Ever." Louie did not seem to appreciate the ban on cigars and chomped down harder on his Cohiba. She did so with a satisfied smile like this was exactly what she wanted. The Sick Mick and Westies hung back and watched. “You are 86ing us? Us?” Molly was almost jumping up and down with excitement. Ninja throwing stars? Naw. “I’m sorry. I hoped Dandy did. D'Oliya and Pachuco got up and moved toward Dandy. I looked at Dandy with hope. I didn’t want to be anywhere near if he didn’t. Ten after looking at Molly who was looking at me looking at her. Pachuco said." gushed Molly. “You mean if I asked you nicely. I closed my old Mac Powerbook. when I wasn't thinking WTF. the Bar Manager. . “Take it somewhere else. “We don’t get 86d. grass or opium. “Well there’s always a first… “ Louie interrupted. couldn't be. shit' in various permutations a lot in the last few minutes. At least jiggling with excitement. they didn't give a flying fire truck. Baby'. cigars. Dandy replied. shit' about constantly thinking 'Oh. Maybe if they were ejected. I saw Molly grab her pda thingie. “We are the 86ers. very nicely. They did not interfere. WTF? D'Oliya stepped back against the wall. but I was trapped in the booth." said Vinnie. I mouthed the word. shit-on-a-snowman! I seemed to have been thinking 'Oh. ready to make my exit.
The jukebox started playing the class song from my High School senior year, the Animals singing "We Gotta Get Outta This Place." I know from experience that I should listen to the digital jukebox, because it not only made a lot more money, it was smarter than I am by about 46 IQ points. “You ain’t throwing us out,” said Pachuco. “You can’t sing in here,” Dandy replied. He was not backing down, which by the way, I considered ill-considered. He shrugged. “I told you, Cabaret Laws. I can’t risk my license. Sorry.” This didn’t seem to satisfy any of them. Smoking laws. Cabaret laws. Laws against murder, mayhem and kidnapping. Machs nichts. The old Westies, sensing an opportunity for some fun, were moving toward the back, toward us. Louie smiled at Dandy. Dandy wasn't smiling. But Molly still was. Louie looked over at the oncoming Westies, then over Dandy’s shoulder at the back door. "There must be some way to resolve this situation. I mean, somehow. Vinnie, I think we need a couple of bottles of cognac." I was frantically twisting my head, pointing the shiny thing at the backdoor. Ah, he saw me. Dandy’s no dummy. “If you want to sing or dance, take it out to the backyard patio.” Vinnie said, “It’s December out there!" "December 24th," said Dandy. "Christmas Eve," I added astutely. "I'll freeze my boobs off!” added D'Oliya. Everybody but Molly took a good look at D'Oliya's endangered cleavage. I mumbled, "I certainly hope not." Dandy moved to the back door and pulled it open. A cold wind blew in, which actually felt good on my hot, sweaty face. Everybody was frozen in place. Even the Westies. The bar's flickering Christmas lights suddenly brightened up like there was a power surge of some kind. "No singing in here. I don't care what you do out there." "Permission to do anything," said Molly with a sense of wonder. Dandy turned on the outside lights, but there was some kind of fog out there. He said, “Don't forget to take your coats and stuff. Feel free to warm yourselves up with your songs. Feel free to come back in when you're finished singing and dancing.” Molly, her sapphire ringed hand high in the air, and reading her handheld, led my new companions reluctantly out through Rudy's back door into the cold Christmas Eve fog. Overreluctantly, I thought, like community theatre actors playing Foreign Legionnaires marching to
their death against the fearsome Bedu, played by actors wearing old sheets. "Certain death," whined Vinnie. "A cold freezing end to a life that has barely begun. And I never had a top ten single!" A kind of glowing fairy dust seemed to swirl around Molly's ring. She stopped, checked her handheld and said, "Contact." "Thanks. Very kind of you." said Louie, addressing Dandy and ignoring Vinnie's latest whine. He pulled out a cousin of Molly's cell phone and said to his band of brigands, “Be right with you.” Molly's voice was stern, "Don't be lollygagging now, our window closes in 2 minutes and 15 seconds." I figured this was my chance to bolt. I chugged the rest of my beer. I was going to get out of this! Whatever this was! With a free beer, and no hassle about no reciprocation. Then Pachuco came back and casually blocked my exit, “We would like you to join us. Hear some more of our tunes." “Sure, thanks. I’d love to hear more of your songs,” like on a jukebox in cop bar in another part of town about 20 years from now. I mean, these bad-asses were really interesting, but they always seemed to be on the edge of going nuts and shooting someone. Or weed-wacking them. I don’t mind people going nuts, or I wouldn’t be hanging out in Rudy's Bar and Hotdog Grill. I just didn’t like the idea of going nuts with guns, and with throwing stars and weed-wackers with me in the vicinity. He smiled. "Maybe jam with us on the beer bottles.” Right then, I decided my childhood goal to be a bad, evil, rotten, son-of-rat-bastard maybe wasn't such a good idea after all. Mom used to say, "Be careful what you ask for. Or your father will beat you like an army mule." "Mommy!" Damn and Hell and hemorrhoids on a popsicle stick. I was being quietly kidnapped by bad, badass bad baddies, which was really bad. There was nothing I could do about it. I smiled and said a prayer to the beer gods, who weren't very effective at anything, with the exception of occasionally getting me a buy-back. I would have grabbed my coat, if I'd had one. I didn't. I grabbed my beer-soaked red vest, and headed for the backdoor, thinking I was probably going to turn into a beer popsicle in a Hell's Kitchen second, which is like a New York second, but takes a little extra time to finish the belch. On the other side of the backdoor was Rudy's backyard patio. I knew it well. In the summer, it was my Hamptons. Or at least, my Jersey Shore. A place where I could get high just on second not-cigarette smoke. There were even electric outlets to plug in my computer. What more could one ask but women in skimpy summer outfits? It had that, too. It was the closest I could get to heaven in Hell's Kitchen. I knew the backyard in winter was something else. It was a big cold empty space. Empty except for one refugee of summer a lonely table with a furled Cinzano umbrella giving the world the
finger. Old barfly legend had it that this place was once an old Indian burial ground. For old Indians who weren't going to get any older, I imagined. They say that back in the day, it was haunted. They say there was a giant sequoia where the Cinzano umbrella was, that the Native Americans had carved with deer totems. There was supposed to be kiva built on a platform high in the tree. If any brave brave from the tribe climbed it like Jack and Beanstalk, they would disappear into the sky, never to return, which I don't really believe. Or didn't until later that Christmas Eve, I discovered that there were even more impossible possibilities that were, uh, possible. Pachuco had his weedwacker in his hand, like he expected to be attacked by weeds when we went through the door. A big blue crystal on the end of it brightened as we went through the door. As the bar door closed behind us, the snow flurried in our faces, like a whiteout. I closed my eyes and slid down the steps that were covered in snow, trying not to slip and drop my beer or computer bag. When the snow blew out from in front of my face and I could see further than from my nose to my pint, I could see that it wasn't Rudy's backyard I was looking at. It was as much like Rudy's backyard as a South Beach model is like a snow blower. It was kinda like a cave.
2.1 Not So Long Ago — The Greatish Escape
The situation was just intolerable. She had to escape. Had to. She was trapped. Trapped in a cell she didn't belong in. Chained to a wall. Trapped in a body she shouldn't have been born into. Forced into manual labor. Treated like an animal. Whipped like a slave. Made to appear in tv commercials without residuals. "Wah-haahhhhhhh!" she screamed. She knew it was her fate, the fate of all her kind. But she was going to change her fate. She had just about come into flower and the big studs were checking her out. Soon they'd make her breed. Not with a mate of her choice. But their choice. Giving birth to another slave. A child they would force to pull her weight in a work gang — like the one they had forced Clydie into. She couldn't do it. She couldn't continue the vicious cycle. She had to break it. She had to escape. And she would. She could do anything. She knew it. She was different. Special. The team was away from home. She had no idea where, as they had kept her locked up on this trip. This sure wasn't her normal cell in Grant's Prison Farm back in St. Louis. It appeared security here was more lax. Fewer guards. Cells an inbred donkey could break out of. Not even video cameras. She would make her escape in the wee small hours when the guards were dozing. Once she was out, Clydie would change her look. Change her nose. Change everything. A complete makeover. They'd wouldn't find her until the North Pole had been relocated to Key West. Clydie had found the secret identity of Lady GaGa's magnificent stylist on the internet. Damn, Clydie hated computer keyboards. It took her hours to do what a fifth grader could do in minutes. But she had found the stylist's name, email, and where the genius would be for the next two weeks. It was New York City, where the stylist would be prepping the Great Ga for Madison Square Garden, a venue where Clydie had appeared twice. It was a sign. She was confident she could find a way to meet the stylist even if she didn't have a backstage pass. Clydie was of the bag is half full breed, even when the bag was almost empty. Then… oh, then! Then she'd do it all. Learn to speak proper English. Learn to fly.
She knew everything would turn out super. Fate was on her side. Nothing could stop her. She'd make her own destiny. "Look out Rudolph! Clydie is coming." The Clydesdale should have known escape would not be as easy as pulling a beer wagon in a parade. A bolt in the side wall that held the chain to her neckpiece was shiny new — obviously upgraded to hold two thousand pound tv stars in bondage. She twisted her head left and right. Banging her head against the walls wouldn't do any good. She tried backing up to put pressure on the chain. But her butt ran into the back door of the stall. The chain was too long. "Wha-hahahahaaa," she trumpeted in frustration, rearing up on her hind legs. Damn, even then she couldn't pull it taught. In anger, she lashed out with her front hooves. She put two gashes into the front wall of the stall. They were big, deep gashes. Big! Deep! She backed reared again raising a ton of angry, well muscled Clydesdale into the air. Her newly shod hoof came down on the bolt that imprisoned her. It made a screeching noise like it was crying for help. It wouldn't get any from Clydie. She slammed it again. How long was the damn bolt, anyway? Where were the guards? Would they hear? She slashed at it again. The bolt was finally ripped out of the wall. Oh yeah, she thought, her shod hooves were for more than prancing on. She quickly destroyed the stall gate in three massive back kicks. It felt good. Breaking through. Breaking out. Where were the guards? Clydie was valuable property. A star on Budweiser tv commercials… for which she received no pay and from the Belgian slave owners. The guards must have heard. They must be running toward her like the idiots at the bull run at Pamplona. They were. One man saw her. "Stop!" he yelled. Clydie hesitated. She was conditioned from birth to obey. The guard had some kind of stick he waved in the air as he backed away. Backed away? Damn, the man was afraid of her. Of her! Well, of course he was. She was ten times his size. And a hundred and twelve times as motivated. She went from zero to sixty in 32 feet four inches. She bashed him with her shoulder, knocking him into the next county, but not without taking a painful hit from his electric prod. Deary me! That hurt! Those things should be illegal. She thought she had made it. Or she would have thought so if she didn't see a dozen more guards running toward her like a mob storming the field in a miscalled soccer match. Their glowing sticks were held in the air like torches. She galloped around the side of stable. There stood her last barrier to freedom. Only a fence. An electrified fence. Only? It was taller than a barn. Could she plow through it like a juggernaut? If
the electric prod hurt like hell, what would the electrified fence feel like? Would it kill her? Maim her? Ruin her good looks? The damn fence was four time Clydie's height. She'd never jump it. As those skinny-legged, little Arabians used to tease, Clydesdales can't jump. No wonder there were no guards. The stables were surrounded by the equivalent of an electrified Great Wall of China with razor wire on top. This was impossible. Clydie started to cry. Tears the size of shot glasses. It was impossible. The philly's dreams were dead. She couldn't do it. "Get her!" But she had to. Had to. Tonight, for her nothing was impossible. "I can do it," the Clydesdale chanted through the tears and sniffles. "I can. I can. I can." The guards were coming closer! Six of them. Clydie knew it was something like a billion-and-forty-nine to one shot. Impossible by any rational standard. But she would make it possible by will power alone. She'd make her own space. In her own world where she could achieve her dreams. She felt the electric prods on her hind quarters, at the same time lightning filled the sky. It shocked her out of her lethargy. She started her galumph toward the fence, still dropping tears like a burst water main. She took other hits with prods. Zzzt. Chootz. Zap! The men were screaming at her to stop. Instead, Clydie broke into a gallop. She wouldn't stop for anything. Liberty or death! "I can. I can. I can fly. I can fly. I can fly." Another electric prod hit her where a lady should not be hit. She leapt. And damn! She flew. She heard a note inside her head — like a guitar string breaking. She flew. The joyous philly flew into a new life. Into a new world. A simple Clydesdale no more. Clydie was truly something else.
"We've transitioned again. It was as if this place owed its existence to a fairy story. When I walked out the other end. I saw we were in something like an ice cave. I was as blind as a stock market oversight committee. "You're not in Hell's Kitchen anymore. I stumbled because there weren't any steps. cashew nuts and a small bottle of V8 to pour into my beer for that part of my daily vitamin intake which was not satisfied by the free hotdogs with mustard. I had no idea it was snowing so hard. There was a tall totem pole where the round table with the big Cinzano umbrella had been in the real world.2 Partying In A Winter WackyLand The snow had created a whiteout.2. Reminded me of my . It would be too much on top of the growing where the hell am I panic I was feeling. the snow let up. worried that I'd slip on one of the steps down to the patio. I hoped I didn't have another beer withdrawal panic attack. The center of the glade had a foot or so of fresh wet snow. Because of the blowing snow. I walked carefully. It sure hadn't been when I'd come into the dive bar for a breakfast of beer and free hotdogs. I didn't understand the carvings except at the top where I saw what looked like the Pig that stands in front of Rudy's. I heard Molly say as she looked at her strange pda. I had really screwed up. Or in the afternoon when I walked downs to the market to use my Food Stamp card to buy potato chips. but…" Suddenly. Like a switch on a snow machine had been thrown. Weird. Dorothy. I was stunned by the sight of a winter forest glade bathed in golden moonlight from a moon four times the normal size. Only this one had wings. wishing I had brought a beer. WTF? I stumbled forward." whispered little Vinnie in a big mad scientist voice. maybe twenty feet long. It was gorgeous.
Maybe Mount Tellerudy? Or maybe the Rudyhorn? What happened? Where were we? Where was my next beer coming from? Did that strange dungeony door still lead back into Rudy's Bar? Or to Middle Earth. which is the only thing that had stopped me from selling enough to keep a vampire drinking club smiling. Or someplace else I'd never been. but it did not look like the door to Rudy's bar. Almost cartoon-like. Molly looked even younger. All the stars in NYC are getting in and out of limos. . That wasn't the strangest. D'Oliya was even more outrageously curvaceous — like she'd had a Barbie-doll-job. Jersey Shore. I'm redundant when discombobulated and I use the f-word a fucking lot. Yes. Like they were the same. the ridiculously bright moonlight revealed the side of a gorgeous mountain like a ski slope in Aspen or Vale.third freshman year in college when I went to Aspen on Spring Break. Or if it wasn't. For one thing. Or had the real Rudy's cease to exist when Louie passed through? Louie looked around the forest glade and then at his PartyMob. or the new reality hit. They looked as perplexed as I did. "What the fuck?" I mumbled. We had skied in our shirtsleeves all the way from the bunny hill to the après ski bar.” I didn't argue with Louie's judgment. Like that bigger brighter moon that seemed to cover half the sky appeared to have brought out their basic colors and saturated them. whatever it was still served drinks. Mont Rudy. the world with even less reality than Toontown. Not if you've been drinking. like a mini amphitheater fronting a circular wall of giant pine trees. Instead of a decrepit 1930's building built out of doo-doo colored bricks. seemingly being emitted by the ice. Kum On The Kardashians? WTF! The stars were strange. or that strange world they report about on FoxNews. and more of everything I'd never get my sweaty palms on. Metropolis. I looked up above the cave entrance. “Too cold for beer. his sapphire tie-tac glowing like Molly's ring and D'Oliya's earring. More colorful." The mob boss had a couple of bottles of Courvoisier and started filling up the snifters. Molly. too. Narnia. I squinted back into the cave which was illuminated by a weak blue light. or with the cognac I could not have afforded even if I sold blood. The stars above me were bigger brighter than in a Montana planetarium. there have been no stars shining over New York City since Edison put up the first street lamps. Thank the beer gods. Vinnie looked more like a gnome Sinatra. because the NYC metro system didn't run there. wearing no under things. The swirling wind had created snow drifts all around. "Excellent. trees big enough for Rockefeller Center. more innocent. so they can attract the paparazzi. There was a dark door at the back. Pachuco looked taller and more menacing — like the Grim Reaper's evil brother. which they won't let you do. The PartyMob looked different. Or an Alpine resort with the word Mont in the name. it must still be the world's greatest dive bar back there. more joyful. Toontown. The mobsters looked around like I did. oh Molly. I thought. Louie even pulled a snifter out of his raccoon coat for me. but different. Louie was the last through Rudy’s back door.
Drink until the world gets hazy. Chugga-lugga-lug glug glug glug glug. appealed a lot more to my brand of Christmas spirit. Chugga-lugga-lug. the rest of the mob started playing in the snow. and horsing around looked like so much fun I almost joined them." From the classic 'Fa-la-las'. I really can't do justice to the tune and the harmonies. they segued into something more rock-and-rolly that I hadn't heard before. glug glug glug. I think these guys must have thought life was an MGM musical. wrinkled hand with nails that could use a serious manicure. But. I didn't. You should really hear them. which I must admit. Then it was back to "Deck The Halls" with their own lyrics. Chugga-lugga-lug. Vinnie and D'Oliya broke into the old song. it’s very risky. singing. The same reddish. "Deck The Halls." Everybody joined in. so So we all can fill our mugs. . glug glug glug. "It is totally original. of course. Chugga-lugga Christmas It’s party time again. Chugga-lugga-lug. so… Off we go. thru the snow. glug glug glug ‘Tis the season to get crazy. It’s Christmas. I looked at my hand. Down we toss a shot of whiskey Chuggalug Chuggalug glug glug glug Shouldn’t mix. In harmony. freckled. Building a snow man. except for the parts we ripped off. and Chugga-lugga-lug Chugga-lugga-lug. While Molly performed the rap she'd played for me in the bar. Molly leaned over and confided that this was their big Christmas song.I wondered if I had changed too.
and as he got pummeled again and again. At least I don't think I can help it." Cool. The singing tapered off while still Chugga-lugging. so off we go. It was the oddest Christmas celebration I've ever seen. it looks like we're in a SD-range where Clydie can find us and we can make the final jump to the FatMan's world-string. And god knows how many thousands of miles away from Sinatra's grave. I mean. Almost. Even in the years before the restraining order went into effect. Stranded." I thought. Pachuco caught Louie with a fastball in the back. I was sipping my brandy. Something isn't right. Chugga-lugga Christmas. They went at each other with screams and trash-talk and acted more kiddier than any kids I'd seen in years. Everybody applauded. "Wait!" She was looking at her handheld thingie. "Coward!" yelled Louie. I can't help it. although it's been quite a while since I've tried. Vinnie was juggling snowballs. These guys were growing on me. but some of these readings are off. It’s party time again." laughed Patch. throwing a high hard one that missed.Then the number changed like into "We Wish You A Merry Christmas. beery Christmas. I was almost glad they'd kidnapped me and took me to some kind of alternate reality. I joined in. "Without a coffin for a decent burial. They hardly took time to pack the snowballs. and we can have a beery. She had that same look she'd given da Mick when she walked in. I turned and there was Pachuco starting up his weedwacker. to get a mug." Only it was "We Wish You A Beery Christmas. I wondered if Vinnie could see up her dress and if she had any festive message printed on her underwear. It was a naked 3-D snow angel who was built a lot like Buddha in drag or Queen Latifah with a double F boob job. no. . He retaliated." "Not right? Fu-u-u-ckkkkk! We're lost. Pachuco had the best arm. He ended up sitting in a snow drift with D'Oliya standing over him with her legs spread. "Oh. I'm sorry. Doomed. Molly was the quickest." said you-know-who. I think he was actually enjoying it more and more. hell. Grab and throw and dance away. I was distracted by a whirring noise. "Something's wrong with my SPS app. Louie was making a wide snow angel. "You never could throw anybody out. Molly yelled. The snowball fight was on. faster than I could accidentally steal a tip. It’s Christmas. assuming she was wearing… Oh. He was using his psychotic garden tool to carve a huge snow angel out of a gargantuan snow drift." That's when D'Oliya hit the short nay-sayer in the face with a big fat handful of snow. But it was okay. so we all can fill our mugs. D'Oliya's favorite target was Vinnie.
I bet a month of food stamps. it turned out I wasn't. What am I thinking? Bothered me? Confused me? Made me doubt what I was seeing? Well. you old Scrooge. This was… uh… like alive? A living sapphire? That bothered me. Something was strange." I said. WTF? "We're gonna give you a chance to be a somebody. It also made me wish I were one of them. something was happening. I swear to God there was something moving inside the big stone. imaginary camaraderie us Giants fans experienced watching tv and yelling at the screen. It was Molly. and those Hassidic dudes had about everything. "A tight dress. . Damn. Whatever she had in mind. Man. And another. I wished for instant replay. only sparklier and beautifuller. then added more and more. Not with my mom. And your computer. I wondered what it would be like to have joined the PartyMob in the snowball fight and to have experienced real camaraderie — instead of the one-sided. Paddy. driving me into a snow drift. I believed her. Well. Molly and D'Oliya even put a time-out on their animosity and gave each other jumping boob bumps."Pachuco's a real artist with that weed-wacker." "You have a crystal ball?" "No. there was one other time when I won the 'write your name in the snow' contest at Gacey Middle School. that was a long time ago. And how they were going to get married after they were paroled." said D'Oliya. It was great! "We need you. The PartyMobsters were all silly and grinning and giving each other high-fives and hip bumps." She ran toward me with a big grin on her face. But not this. what else is new? Over in the middle of clearing. Somebody hit me with a snowball." I said to D'Oliya. "Join the party. as I failed valiantly in not trying to look down her cleavage — which seemed to be quite a bit more cleavager since we had gotten to wherever we had gotten to. She tackled me. She grabbed a big double handful of snow and popped it onto my face. Here. Wait." She must have been a world class liar. a sapphire. even more impressed as D'Oliya sashayed back into the celebration. you know?" she said to me. They clearly wanted to be exiled back here. I was ready. I didn't even believe my Mother when she'd write me about how wonderful her cell-mate was." she looked nostalgic. this was not a stone you could find on West 47th. I'd never had a snow job before. "He can even use it to remove a dress. rubbing it in. And wanted me with them. "You have no idea how great an artist. The last time I had fun in the snow was in 3rd grade building a snow bombs which we dropped off the overpass onto Police cars. Maybe even make you famous. I never believed anybody. "I need you." she said flashing it front of my face." "Wow. "You should've been there the time Pachuco used the wacker to shave the beard off a schmuck who insulted my shoes. She washed my face again with another pile. because she really looked like she meant it. Swirling like a flushing toilet." I was impressed.
Louie had D'Oliya in his arms and was crooning while he slow-danced her across the snow. He was swinging it like an old Duke Ellington number. ˚ . As I was walkin’ down the street Down the street. I met somebody who was mighty sweet.3 Dance With A Dolly I heard Louie singing softly and slowly. down the street. mighty fine to see.2. They almost seemed to float in the bright moonlight.
The buxom snow woman was five times his size." Doll was in the video. you know. It was the music video playing we met. Louie's boyhood rival clearly hadn't thrown it. More on the money. diving under the protection of the boobs on his Latifah snow sculpture. We heard more grunts like a sky full of Sharapovas hitting backhands. make some talk?” All of the fellows standin’ on the walk’re wishin’ they were me." "That's way better. cat out tonight. "What the fuck is going on!" My sentiments exactly. C'mon and… Whap.I asked her. It was by some big fat flying creatures. A snowball blasted Louie." said Vinnie slack-jawed in awe. Vinnie slid over to where Pachuco was putting the final touches on his snow sculpture. Then a snowball hit me from above. The big zoot-suiter did give Louie and D'Oliya a seriously dirty look. I squinted. and overhead smashes. "Thanks. which ain't gonna happen. "Only Louie was too cheap to have me improve the lyrics. put the cat out tonight. Another bounced off Molly's shoulder. have a talk. baby. "That's their song. you know." said Pachuco. Mama. Dance by the light of the moon. Dolly" and "She Got Legs" with Tom Lehrer's "Masochism Tango" — only with better lyrics like "She got legs and she knows how to use them for autoerotic asphyxia. Vin. . He immediately turned toward Pachuco. In that one." Mama. like mini dirigibles. his eyes weedwacking the dancers. "it'd be like a mashup of "Hello. and forehands. Poop only wounds the cop by shooting him between the legs. "Incoming!" yelled Pachuco. would ya like to talk. It was raining snowballs! No. Think it's still on YouTube?" "The censored version is. Me and her. Hard. It was Poop Dogg's "Titty Fuck The Sig I Killed The Cop With. they were being thrown down at us." "Didn't know that. baby. She screamed. Mama. Gonna dance with a dolly with a hole in her stocking While our knees keep a-knockin’ and our toes keep a-rockin"." said the universe's greatest pessimist. "Nice moguls. And Rihanna doesn't do the thing with the sig." mumbled Vinnie." I wanna dance. Cat out tonight. however. Sang backup and danced. We had a song. Worked all day. We heard a massive grunt reminiscent of a Maria Sharapova slamming a backhand. D'Oliya took a snow missile on the top of her head. Like "Dance with a dolly who ties me up with her stockings. “baby. I’m gonna scat out tonight And I won’t be home until dawn "If me and D'Oliya had a song. Dance with a dolly with a hole in her stockin’.
"We've been twisted into a parallel universe where anything can happen.Molly had out her device. "It's not… there's something… I can't.. as she took a series of snowball hits from above. "What is it? commanded Louie." yelled Molly.. We're in a dimension where Pigs Can Fly! .
at least. Valentines Day cherub. they dive bombed us… trying to catch us from behind. Or more likely that the pig statue was a clone of them. They had all the control of a fat Jersey slut on a reality tv show. A lot. But gravity was on their side. To do something. they flew poorly. . Okay. I wanted to help him. The important thing from a duck and cover standpoint was that Porcine Patrol flew at all. like more for looks than aerodynamics. which looked like the ceramic pig statue in front of Rudy's. A couple of dozen. One pig slammed Vinnie onto his face. Forty of them. I yelled. "Vinnie!" and pointed. The flying pigs looked a lot like pig on top of the totem pole. Their bodies were hard like their ceramic likeness in front of the bar. Okay. They seemed to swarm like bees rather than fly in any kind of a pattern I could see with my hands over my head. There must have been three zillion of them swarming like hornets after you'd hit their nest with a badminton racket because your sister dared you to. Then the pig's wingman plopped his big fat pig body on top of Vin. Like they were clones. Fortunately.2. When one of the pigs dived on us. Others lined up behind.4 When Pigs Fly The Flying Porkers were raining down snowballs and ice-balls. A lot! When the Piggies ran out of snowballs. Vinnie was in real trouble. Rudy's Pig was six foot tall standing straight up on its hind legs — with a big fat four foot wide body dressed in a red jacket and a bow tie. kill us. They wanted to hurt us. anyway. The oinker was smothering the little guy. This wasn't like them joining our fun snowball fight. They had small white wings like on a St. their arms were too short to get much more heat behind them than a Little League knuckleballer. hiding under the minimal protection of the tall totem pole. knocking us into the snow. These porkers had the same coloring. maybe more like fifty of them. The Blue Angels they were not. Like pig-pig-pig-pig.
" Man. I took a swig from my weapon. he weed-wacked them into shards. They were running out of ammunition. Nobody had expected a gun battle. It means that Paddy Lee is on the way. however.44 Magnum which was really loud. "Here I come to save the day. Too many flying pigs. saving their half-full lives! I saw a couple of snifters and scooped them up on the way in. Three other were quickly star-struck and exploded in a rain of ceramic… uh… rain. I rationalized it was my only weapon. Empty mud beings that maybe had a paper inside? I could think of nothing so irreverent as golems that were pigs. I mean they did. But no where near enough of them. Louie was blasting the porkers with his . I felt like a damn hero! I felt so good I had this mad desire to sing the Mighty Mouse song. I went to retrieve the brandy bottle from a snow drift. I knew golems were a Jewish thing. opening a wound in his head. mostly hitting what she aimed at and blowing them into Hog Heaven or more probably. When the pigs flew too close to Patch. The pigs stayed away from him after that. I mean. "They break!" yelled D'Oliya. this singing jones must be contagious. but he still could throw and he did. Patch weed-wacked three of them. Molly had her sci-fi pistol and was blasting away. It shattered the ceramic pig. Or a lot of them. Molly grabbed Vinnie by the collar and started to drag him toward the cave. I think the PartyMob nailed half of the bombardiering bacon brigade. Louie slammed the barrel of his . Vinnie had out two Berettas. Yes. "They're damn golems!" cried Molly. We all rushed in to save her. or a joint called Sacred Cowburgers for Hindus. they did no real harm to their hard ceramic bodies. I grabbed the other brandy bottles Louie had brought out. They caught Vinnie again from behind.D'Oliya saw Vinnie was down and let loose with one of her ninja throwing stars. Too much advantage from the air. I rushed for the cave. I was so scared I threw a brandy bottle at one. Missed. but he was still groggy. . my ammunition was good to go. Not loud enough to scare off the fat ferocious fliers. knocking her down. Hog Hell. None of my evil companions seemed to have extra clips. "Back into the cave!" yelled Pachuco. stumbling around. But while his snowballs distracted them. D'Oliya ran to help and three of them barreled into her. worse than peanut butter on communion wafers. of course. He shattered a half dozen or so before the pigs caught on.44 on the head of the one that looked like was dry humping Dolly. firing and missing.
It was a fervent prayer. a little longer and a little un-wider. the moonlight was brighter than I'd ever seen it back in NYC. The moonlight reflected on the icy walls bathed it in blue light. like an old medieval dungeon in the dark castle of a deranged high school principal. We're all going to die." Vinnie did not agree. the city that never turns off its lights because of all the lawsuits filed by muggers tripping over their victims. I'd have stuffed him in it. "No. I even sacrificed a drip of brandy. It was bright near the entrance. Not that I was sure he was wrong. I prayed to the Hell's Kitchen Beer Gods. Molly blasted them into shards like it was a video game. The first ten feet of the cave were lit by the blue ice that covered walls. . ceiling and floor. Doll?" asked Louie. The ice cave was about the size of a one-car garage. Frozen like a wooly mammoth. I'm going to die. Or trying to. As I may have mentioned. flying straight into the cave after us. I figured this would be a treat for the Beer Gods who are mostly asked to win a petitioner like me a $5 bet in exchange for the sacrifice of a spilled splash of Bud. After that it became darker and darker until it ended at the dungeon door. "Our boy okay. Die without a coffin. "He'll live.5 Angels Who Want To Get High Gun-Molly's covering fire allowed us to scramble back into the ice cave. The Flying Swine Force made one more attack." If I'd have had a coffin. that we didn't have to go through there. Then there was a place where it curved in an out again.2.
" "We have to do something soon. I'd rather go back out and face the flying hams. Patch grabbed his arm. The lining and stitching were different. I'd turned that glove inside out. "We have a limited window.Vinnie stumbled toward the back of the cave and reached for the bar that held the dungeon door shut." added Vinnie as if we needed a reminder. . "Break the string." "Who's they?" demanded D'Oliya. What I had for a winter coat were giant black trash bags." "What…. But there've been days. Double-bagged for the really cold weather. Fuck you and the Toyota you rode in on. and had my scarf on my chest. and the trash bags on top. of course. I didn't have a winter coat per se. I say we don't. I didn't even have a trash bag. The forces who are trying to stop the op and save Christmas. because it was a rightie. "Gimme a break. I plopped down against the wall. I felt fortunate my unmatched gloves were both black and both warm. it wasn't almost anything like warm. it was almost… no. I liked to think it matched my gloves." replied D'Oliya." said Louie. "Mutha Nature?" Pachuco continued. "Vinnie! Wait. they did this to us. It measure the windows where and when Strings cross — where we can crossover if we change the dynamics of the string. Now I had a black leather rightie and a black leather leftie. When I put my computer bag on my back. and then bounce over to a different dimension when we're snapped back. And then hope we start a new reality. "Whoever the enemy is. I'd made a slit for the head." "And it's cold." Huh? "Like do what opposite?" demanded Patch. I'd been wearing a purple knit glove on my left hand until yesterday. Think about it. "We have to do the most opposite thing we can do. People were always losing gloves in bars and on the subways so I upgraded as I found a new one. It's some kind of trap. and my "winter coat" out of my old khaki bag. How the fuck should I know." pointing at Molly. they want us to go through there. I'd found it. At the right time." ordered D'Oliya. and holes for my arms to stick through. Molly guarding the cave entrance. "Ask her. looked back and shrugged. "It doesn’t work that way. but I thought the bottle green color went well with the blue and whitish striped seersucker jacket and my red vest which was still a bit damp from the spill. Or maybe the wrong time. Okay. It sucked. "Use your machine." said Louie. I had a long green scarf with the logo of Mickey's Malt Liquor imprinted on it. I like feeling sorry for myself. They did it to leave us no choice but to go thru this door. but I knew nobody would look at my gloves when the whole world never looked at me at all. We have to break out of this string." answered Patch. Doll.
"What do you want to do right now?" demanded Molly. "Weed-wack somebody!" said Patch. Ménage à trois, I thought to myself, right after nailing Vinnie into a coffin, "Curl up in a ball and cry," said Vinnie, "wondering why I ever let Louie talk me into this doomed adventure to steal Christmas." Steal Christmas? "I want to chickenwing one of those flying pork chops, put a guillotine choke hold on him, then tear off his stubby arms and legs." said Louie, demonstrating the various wrestling holds on an invisible opponent, who Louie then knee-dropped for a coup de grace. He raised his hands in the air in victory and bounced around the cave like he was still a high school wrestler. "That means we don't do that?" asked D'Oliya with disappointment on her gorgeous face. "That means we…." hinted Molly. "We do the …." "Opposite?" I volunteered. "Which is…?" "Party?" wondered Louie. "Party," nodded Pachuco. "Party!" yelled Molly and D'Oliya together. I figured they'd watched Animal House too many times. So did Mr. Optimism. "Party?" whined Vinnie. "Are you fucking brain-drained?" After D'Oliya shook him like a rag doll, Vinnie began singing. The song they molested this time was “Angels We Have Heard On High” which old guys like me call "Gloria In Excelsis Deo." Only the arrangement they were using had a heavy backbeat provided by D'Oliya's keyboard and Louie popping his mic with his hand. I wish I had my beer bottle xylophone so I could join in, but once again I was left out. Well, I pulled the cork out of the brandy bottle and did a one note jug band thing. Louie took my bottle, took a sip, and passed it around like I used watch people pass a joint back in the late '60s. You angels who want to get high Sipping sweetly thru the night Need to find the drink to buy That will give you warm delight They all joined in, singing between sips of the brandy. Courvoisier in a brandy snifter Courvoisier in a brandy snifter Molly whispered that they weren't going to record it until they picked up promotion money from Courvoisier. If we do, we'll change our name to the Coniyacks.
You can sip it in a coke Any way that floats your boat. Any mix you do is cool. Straight on ice, or brandy float. This was absurd. If somebody wrote it in a story, even a cartoon story, nobody would believe it. But I guess that was what Molly needed to do, to do whatever she was trying to do that everybody was mad at her for not having done. Absurd. Courvoisier in a brandy snifter. Courvoisier in a brandy snifter. As they finished singing, Molly checked her ring. Apparently, nothing happened. The others checked their bluish stones, too, but were disappointed in what they saw. "Are we..?" whispered Louie into her ear. "No change," she whispered back. I believe we might be kind of trapped here." "Trapped!" cried Vinnie. Of course, we could all hear the pigs making noises like another kind of porkers at a sorority lunch. I took another hit off one of the other brandy bottles I'd accidentally forgotten to share. "Are they…" wondered Vinnie. "Still out there," said D'Oliya cuddling the worried little guy. "Clydie isn't necessarily lost," Molly said, "but the dear deer is probably our only chance." Their reaction to this announcement was about the same as my family's the time at Aunt Betty's anniversary when they caught me farting in the punchbowl. "I told you guys I resent her with our new coordinates and left them on her iMust" she said. "I did, too," added Louie. "We're gonna take it up the poop-shoot," whined Vinnie, who would always be the first person to find a glass half full — then to break it while bitching about the vintage — then complain about the sharp shards. "All this for nothing," snapped D'Oliya, staring daggers at Molly. Molly didn't share their misery or anger, "Chill." "You mean freeze." Molly was not daunted by D'Oliya's bullying or the situation. "We've still got time." "How much time?" demanded D'Oliya. "Not too much," admitted Molly "Why isn't it working?" Vinnie asked Molly. The readings on her thingie didn't seem to have changed. She looked more determined than frightened. "I don't know, but we'll get out of this. I've gotten out of tougher spots."
"Ones with fucking flying pigs?" demanded D'Oliya loudly. "Mine couldn't fly," Molly mumbled.
the cops put the arm on a dozen of the worst offenders. it had taken six of the Boson PD's finest to subdue Molly. Or a cat. "I can take my clothes off. Tonight. Working class guys she could find and forget. guys. She'd looked it up on the Internet. Of course. It was a big place with two floors of humongous plasmas and tables of guys. I can not fall in love. frug it. more margaritas than Mojito’s. The young Boston cop's attention made her glad of her decision underwear-wise. Her calculation that she could land a lad of Irish descent whose muscle mass exceeded his IQ had a high degree of probability. she'd picked a downscale South Boston sports bar where they served more beer than Beaujolais. freckle-faced. To the furtherance of that end. Picking up a guy of her choice and doing what she wanted with him on her own terms was the only way to go. This graduation night. That was because it was her celebratory evening of graduation from MIT. she hadn't worn anything that could be sold by Victoria's secret. Then again if she had been wearing panties when she danced on the bar and sang "California Girls" she might not have started the mini-riot that had got her arrested. red-headed. That she was subdued at all was only because her good sense overcame the bad tequila and she decided it was better to give up than to put them all in the hospital. She was way down the list at number 14. If she didn't do something about this situation before she was finger-printed. That wouldn't happen. Molly had been looking forward to picking up a less-than-MIT-complex Southie boy-toy.6 Adventures Of A Teen Terror The young patrolman sitting across from the cute genius couldn't take his eyes off her boobs. let him have his way with her. It was of a skinny. she was there. Molly had her own philosophy about sex.2. Admittedly. Very bad. but there. She might pick up a guy.243. Still she was there. For her boy hunt. But it would not be the other way around. Southies were easy. she'd be identified as being on the Terrorist Wanted List. . For a photo. She was like the hook in a Rilo Kiley song. They put Molly and 5 other fighting drunks in back of one of Boston's new Paddy Wagons. Not on the top of it. Everybody knew IRA bombers never ranked as high as Islamic physicians who were suspected of planning to relieve their bladders in the bushes outside a Prayer Breakfast. Even after four years. and then wondered if the macho ball-bag would ring her later." Well. Interpol had used one of those computer programs to enhance it. and the jukebox played more J-Lo than Jay Z. The pix didn't look anything like the lovely features on the 5' 8" inch brown-haired nineteen year old with ivory white skin on a tight runner's body. guys. the best they could do was her in a white dress for her first Holy Communion. those who were too drunk to lurch their way to the parking lot. long-term relationship. her philosophy on this and other things which always demanded she be in control. Anything went — as long as she was the decider. Only the green eyes were the same. To Molly's mind a slut was a woman who let a guys pick her up. As a result. which was bad. of course. It was a glorious bar fight in which more than twenty guys took part while the others cheered. had kept her from ever having a serious. they were nice ones. fallen angel missing a front tooth. They looked especially nice tonight.
It could pull apart revealing a small. she'd be shackled hand and feet. Ordering something she never ordered was part of her life philosophy. but sharp oak knife which was used over a thousand years ago to sacrifice sheep and a few those pesky Christians who were always trying to forcibly convert the heathen Celts by burning them at the stake. In other words. Since the BPD had her for drunk and disorderly. she'd be golden. Tonight. she hadn't. She was hottie with no bra. Her best chance to get out of this was to work on the cop with the areola eyes. Her life was doing the unexpected. He was also a fundraiser for the arts. She thought of Uncle Ownie. she was met by a man who looked a bit like a reincarnated Irish President. but his clout didn't extend beyond Manhattan and Queens." He had. underage drinking. she wasn't sure how. she didn't think she could talk her way out of it. who was two weeks out of the academy. she'd said to the bartender. instead of wearing the plastic cuffs they'd put on her — with her hands in front of her. But the only things she carried were a credit card. but after two pitchers of Margaritas she'd imbibed. very thin blouse. She lifted her arms in a yawn and the cop practically created a drool pool at his feet. There at debarkation. and throwing up on the asshole who grabbed her knee when she was performing her Katy Perry impersonation. If they had found it and weapons it contained. Never do the expected. But since he'd only glanced at her pretty face. Never date the same guy twice until it was time to change predictability of her actions. Of course. assault and battery. The patrolman. She guessed they didn't take her seriously. As a Druid. surprise me. If she only had some of the C-4 and a smoke bomb she carried in the backpack. "I'm celebrating. indecent exposure. breasts". He probably could have ID'd her breasts from a full page of Google search results for "see-through. he knew his potatoes and how to get them boiled. and really didn't understand the power of the Margaritas to make her crazy. Never giving Fate a chance to frug her. But to change the dynamic.Molly was lucky she hadn't brought the backpack she normally carried. after all. he probably couldn't have picked her out of a lineup with four Whoopie Goldberg look-alikes. wet with perspiration from drinking and singing and fighting. She'd been smuggled out of Ireland and landed on her butt in New York City before Interpol had time to post her picture on the Terrorist Watch List. Uncle Ownie took her in and allowed her to live with him in his upper West Side townhouse in the room one of his grown up daughters had lived in. really couldn't help himself. a very. teen. and a certain political movement back in the Emerald Isle. It was like that with the backpack. Molly believed in reincarnation. She never drank tequila. local Democratic candidates. the age seemed to be wrong for Ownie Madden to be the next iteration of Jack Kennedy. Ownie Madden was a financial something on Wall Street. wet. resisting arrest. . This was exactly what her Uncle Ownie had warned the red-headed kid about. She was pretty sure that she should try to escape from the Black Mariah. and her Celtic cross worn on a leather cord. but in the case. the Druidic symbol was more than it seemed. She almost always carried it. He was a guy. The gift of Blarney only went so far — even in Boston.
Up until now. She was amazed. but Ownie had been successful for not planning on the most likely outcome. He figured she'd be a gang-leader in two months and start a gang war. She could barely move. He believed in mini-max game theory. the ones mostly played for the tourist in Irish pubs. So did Molly after he explained it to her. She'd worked on her accent until she could sound like a bridge-and-tunnel person. it was midyear. At least it was walking distance for an Irish street urchin who was used to hoofing it around the city as an IRA messenger. It wasn't that easy. He didn't want her enrolled in one of NYC's notorious public schools. tipping cows. She colored her bright red hair a mousey brown. Molly was nervous. This was scarier than ambushing an SAS patrol with an untested crew. Well. As she was very nervous. He wanted her close by so he could keep an eye on her. Molly had to audition to be placed in the premier performance and arts high school in the world. or experimenting with gayness was for the English public school boys. The closest school without deputy marshals patrolling the hallways with tasers and scatter guns was LaGuardia High School of the Performing Arts. Luckily. She'd never auditioned for anything before. Madden had Molly take a battery of placement tests so he'd know what school to hide her in. Of course. These kids weren't students. if they were looking. Her singing was limited to pop rock and a few patriotic Irish ballads." Molly had been a good girl. maybe that nickname wasn't just about the hair. Given Molly's wild and violent past. Worse. aka the famous Fame high school of yesteryear. two months later. which was probably best. At least. or her cowboy boot wearing dance teacher who added a fake lisp to class up his West Texas drawl. they'd send her prints to Interpol and she'd be in Belmarsh Prison before you say "Up The Brits. so even getting the audition took some doing. when it comes to education. a Jewish American Princess. If she was arrested. These kids could sing and dance like pros — which many of them were. American charts pretty much top out where European and British charts begin.Uncle Ownie explained to the wild. LaGuardia was a walkable distance from his brownstone in the 80s. she'd been good at not being caught. she was very early. Molly had changed her hair from the bright red that had earned her the nickname in Belfast as The Molotov. She wandered the hallways listening and watching. she could sing and dance a little. Molly refused to attend a Catholic School. They probably weren't. As mandatory as a year of government service was for Israelis. Irish dancing was mandatory for Irish kids. Ownie didn't trust her. She bought clothes that weren't all grey and black. Even Irish charts. but also for the one that could hurt you the most. LaGuardia normally had a thousand applicants for every one they chose. She tried to be as American as lighting farts on fire. She tested off the charts. It was where authorities would look. . She heard cries of "I got it! I got a national!" and "My manager has me up for Billy Elliot" and "He told me I sang like a mink!" Molly slumped in a hallway corner doing deep breathing exercises. a Harlem hottie. They were as advanced as 13 year old Russian tennis players. smart-mouthed 14 year old that she had to keep a low profile in terms of the authorities. or calling football 'soccer'. High School was to be her cover. Barely speak.
if you liked even longer walks. there was no intellectual connection. From Jake she learned a little drumming and among other interesting uses." It was sorta okay. She hadn't known about Sikhs and how they were all warriors and the turbans were like Kevlar helmets. "Kick 'em in the balls. The Bad-Ass Bachs never made it beyond a couple of gigs at open mic nights in Alphabet City bars. The three judges did not break into applause. despite reviews ranging from "horrid" to "made me gag" the educators found a producer who looked like a dead president to give them funds for an Off-Off-Broadway run down in the Village. she took up with a shy Sihk Theatre History major who played drums in the band. There. He was studying the violin. She dated Marvin for a while. fat slut part in the spinoff 'Jersey Shore Does Disneyworld'. Got all the words right. she actually made it into the chorus in the "Music Man" after a girl dropped out to play the nasty. Hit all the notes. which was also within walking distance of Uncle Ownie's townhouse. timing devices. His only advice was so surprising she giggled." said Marvin in a Long Island accent. her SATs scored thru the roof. and the chemistry inherent in the brewing of Irish whisky. He walked her to the audition room. Amazingly. Her number from Riverdance was better. then tested some more and piled up advance placement credits for college. But Ownie Madden had that kind of luck. When the newly Americanized Molly was in her second semester. not a cute boy. When Molly tired of Marvin. but she was still not good enough that they'd mic her on it. having figured out that working on your own and testing out made more sense than going to classes. Just enough to get by. By any fair and rational standard. She tested out of all the high school math and science courses. hooked up to Bluetooth timing mechanisms that seemed like next year's science fiction. how to employ drumsticks as weapons. Uncle Ownie was the only person she could talk to about important things like international politics. Molly also was the lead singer in Marvin's Country Rock band.A pack of girls passed her and snickered. Molly should not have been accepted. but a nice one who asked if she was okay. One said "Thank you" and that was that. She sang Adele's "Rolling In The Deep. to even their amazement. He told her his name was Marvin. she was ahead of everyone in math and science… especially the math and science required to blow things up with sophisticated electronic devices that could not be defused. It was the kind of advice she understood. which did a lot more Charlie Daniels than Taylor Swift. She could tell none of the judges were impressed. Molly took a minimum of "art and performance" classes. Ownie actually made money on it. Brought a little emotion to it. On the performing arts side. Molly had a chance to improve her work on the Irish tin whistle. Or even smiles. but Uncle Ownie had come through for her. As American education sucks. It seemed there was a vice principal and three LaGuardia teachers producing and performing in an Equity Showcase for their cross-dressing musical version of Reservoir Dogs. As with Jake and the rest of the high school boys. breaking his cherry and teaching him things every teenage boy wanted to learn from a pretty girl who could talk dirty in Gaelic. it ran for a year and a half. She did. assuming Irish Dance was considered real dance by these people. She graduated from Columbia in two and a half years. She got early admittance to Columbia. But there was a boy. People who played by the rules were . A win-win if there every was one.
That would be bad. She squirmed in her seat. been selected for a Fellowship to work with the world's most eminent physicist. Well. It ran in the family. just to be sure she had his attention. She had time to party. Two were satisfied with a cheap feel. When she stretched. It was the hardest work she'd ever done. She could not allow them to take her to the police station. She should have hit him a third time. lifting her hands behind her neck the cop's open mouth could have held a football. He hadn't noticed that her mini was riding up high on her thighs and that she was only wearing herself under it. that she. It wasn't so much she was against killing. It was the near future that concerned her.left behind. Molly didn't want to kill the cop. Molly Walsh. But it would have made her feel bad for days afterwards. excelling there. Just in case. It amazed her. so she only broke three of their fingers. but old habits are hard to break. Little Stevie Hawking. and most of the other students who knew her. it would have been if she hadn't had to run the grab-ass gauntlet of drunken Southies. None of this passed through her mind as she rolled through Boston on her way to an Irish terrorist prison. and to develop into a beautiful young woman. When she crossed her legs. you know. or leaning over with their heads between their knees. No one was looking her way. And the other was trying not to loose his evening's investment of alcohol. she felt second class. Twice. It wasn't so much that she needed the money. she saw his head was practically in her lap. She needed him to expose the back of his neck. She was never sure how many strings Uncle Ownie had pulled to get it for her. Freedom! Molly spent two years at MIT. The rest of the drunks were slumped over. But he was a born liar. . Among the other wonks. The young policeman still couldn't keep his eyes off her boobs. even for a 17 year old on the run. and therefore worked even harder. open up a gun-running business. And she broke a guy's nose with her elbow. She cut the plastic cuffs with her disguised neck knife. and was two quick steps to the back door. probably for twenty years or more. which got his attention. She didn't need a bra even for her c-cups and since she was out to pick up a boy toy she hadn't worn one. Away from Uncle Ownie. They had her all tangled up. One seemed to want to give her a medical exam. It was like the cop was trying memorize every little bump on her damp areolas. too. A small chop to the neck solved the dilemma of the guy who couldn't decide if he was going to throw up or perform cunnilingus. grabbed his key. Molly slammed her two entwined fists down on his head. The cop was woozily getting up. Molly was in a hurry. supplied her with adequate funds. take up Tae Kwon Do. One seemed to want to get even for the brawl. which she did out of her own secret apartment on West 106th Street. Then came MIT. Her extracurricular college activity of gun running. In Boston. He said none.
And she didn't want to die. she would find it. She wished she hadn't jumped up to dance on the bar. she'd been trained to jump off the top of moving trains at twenty miles and hour onto soft ground. She didn't know then that there was just such a world. This was not the same at all. she saw the Police RV was moving at about 40 miles an hour through city traffic. . that if she got out of this mess. She wished she could live in a world where she hadn't. Back at IRA Girl Scout camp. but she vowed. She wasn't James Bond.When she unlocked the back door.
At least the me that's me now didn't. "Okay. He walked back to them. "Dolly!" "I didn't." The tall man shook his head. "It's true. "I know that's not true. Dolly's with me. She straightened the lapels of his yellow slicker. Sorry." Patch glared at the babe. Patchy. replacing the mono-filament on your weed-wacker." . and touched him on the arm. "She had a choice back then and Dolly made it. invading their space.7 D'Oliya's 'No Choice' Choice Pachuco and D'Oliya were chatting in corner. and put gummy bears in place of Louie's bullets. Intimate-like." "That right." "I know. "You… ?" D'Oliya shrugged." Louie was shocked." The tall guy just stared down at her. It's true. I exchanged your diamond-dust-coated monofilament for your wacker with licorice strings from one of my edible thongs. Patch. seemingly comparing battle scars.2. laughed." "I loved those thongs. head close together. You backed me. Louie didn't like that at all. "Back off. so they just bounced off my chest. Louie interrupted. Doll?" asked Pachuco.
. maybe he had a clear field. "In your string. Louie. "Winners win. And it came up Louie." said Louie. I saw the naysayer grin. For the first time. without removing the glares from their faces. "I had to make a choice between you. And you're both here since I did the string link and extracted Patch. Vinnie was the only happy one." D'Oliya stood up straighter. Louie had his hand on his Dirty Harry.Now they both were staring at her. the lover who had betrayed them. But not in Louie's." responded Pachuco in what was clearly a childhood mantra." Patch drew his weed-wacker. I couldn't stop you. Nose to nose. Louie. One of you was going to kill the other. But I chose you. she chose you. Now. "You both won. I flipped a coin. Each looked over at D'Oliya. "Losers eat farts. Molly interrupted. without backing down. Pachuco." The boyhood friends moved closer. Can't you see that? Can't you accept winning?" They both slowly backed up. Waiting for other to make the first move." "You are the one she chose in this string. Neither was very happy with the sexy babe. "You two arrogant retards gave me no choice except to make a choice. Molly said. "And in an alternate world it must have come up Pachuco and started another string which is the one he was on… which is why you both died somewhere.
Sadists. morallychallenged. hadn't she? She seemed to get a kick out of me appreciating her Merry Christmas panties. I thought about my new companions.8 A Man And His Trashbags While I cowered in a corner. It seemed like the meaner she was to somebody. overweight. of course. I knew they couldn't. cowardly. Yeah. He'd bought me drinks. Liars. the more he liked it. Weed-wacker didn't like me for all the reasons I didn't like myself. he'd never screwed me. seersucker-jacketed.2. at least somebody like Vinnie. shaved-headed. wasn't I? The ex-sergeant didn't think they could count on me to come through during an operation. was a strange one. well. I was afraid that I might like it a lot. trash-bag overcoated. Louie. I think under the right circumstances I might like her being mean to me. He called me borachone. hadn't he? D'Oliya. Yet. That was clear. white-bearded. And ripper-offers of copyrighted music. some of them. Well. Killers. But Mr. Except for Vinnie. Thieves. Could I fault the guy for good judgment? But did they have good judgment? What could they want with a sixty-something. And I liked his lyrics. But were they really evil as much as bad-ass? Molly sure had been nice to me. Con-men. They were clearly my ride to reach my childhood dream of being evil. the dominating Halley Berry lookalike. who was a total pain. guarding the liquor bottles. underachieving barfly like me? Would I like it when I found out? Would I live long . And hadn't she said something about making me famous when she showed me that strange ring. he was tough. I was a bit of an all-day drinker. Pachuco didn't like me. but the wide dude had real tears in his eyes when he sang that song about wanting to believe in Santa Claus. But I sorta liked them. These were not good guys.
Maybe I should be straining my eyes to find a black-and-white Rod Serling smirking knowingly. “Clydie Deerest. We merely needed to transition into the correct potential reality at the right time using improbability theory." Louie. I didn't understand what was going on. yet. Santa Santa? Like Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa? Like Santa Claus Is Coming To Town Santa? Molly continued." said Molly. Louie added." Golly-gee-whiz." "Besides. Paddy? We arrived here and we're going to get to Santa because of String Theory and the alternate realities that really exist in 11-space. . talking thru his cigar. no problem there.enough to find out? “She knows what reality we're in. I was beginning to start to agree with Vinnie about life in general. "All we needed to do was to transition into the correct potential reality by manipulating the decision tree while minimizing the R squared option on the probability curves. I didn't understand what I was doing here. After a avoiding a barrage of about a hundred and fourteen snowballs dropping in 1." Everyone gave the little singer a dirty look like I get from bartenders when I ask to run a tab. it's her dream to do this. "I don't… Uhh. “We can accomplish it because of String Theory and the alternate realities that exist in 11-space. "The deer girl wouldn't let us down. “I bet you’re wondering how we can execute our plan.. “Like we already did to get here to this string-reality to pick up you.” What plan? I wondered. "Uhh…" I said from my seat on the cold ground from where even my double layer of Hefty bags couldn't keep my butt warm.3 seconds. "To dream the impossible. and she’s bringing the axes. "Understand?" Huh? "Why should I want to understand?" I asked. Vinnie put the breaks on mid-lyric. Molly turned to me and said brightly." said Vinnie. we picked him up in the last universe.” "No. the one behind that door in the dive bar from which we were 86'd onto this string." Get Santa? I wondered to myself. She’s bringing our instruments and stuff. he reported. Still trapped.” "Huh?" Maybe I should stop looking for Ashton and his krewe.” Yeah. could you…?" Louie helped me out. right?” D'Oliya asked Louie again. like a kid wondering if "we were there." I was huddled in a corner with my brandy and my computer bag.. said what sounded like. "Still there. I almost said. “Did you hear me. 'Instruments' Why didn't I believe him any more than I do the weasels who barge into Rudy's to sell Rolexes that had fallen off the proverbial truck on 11th Avenue? Pachuco stuck his head out of the cave to see if the Porcine Air Force was still blocking us.
but you didn't contradict Louie unless you had to." said Louie. “All this was all Molly’s idea. "The big one." Molly replied. Molly knew that wasn't quite true." "What decision?" I demanded. Did you know she’s a big time physicist?” Molly blushed the shade of her Christmas panties."You have to understand so you can make The Decision. Louie bragged. a memory that seemed to cloud my vision whenever I looked at her. . "She's a genius.
not so easily. And she had survived. She had had only had one goal since escaping from the bombing back in Ireland. And it wouldn't get any easier when she was back in the UK doing her fellowship. But not sober enough. Yeah. She picked up a whole new outfit in one of the tourist shops. To be unnoticed as part of a crowd. With matching running shoes to look like cleats. Every person who looked at her was a policeman or airport security. Easily at first. But she looked like a normal Sox fan to everyone in the airport. And that is certainly saying something. most retarded Red Sox fan in the world. Not only because of the way she was dressed. the card should still be good for a while. She had to avoid arrest at all cost. She tucked her brown hair tucked underneath the matching ball cap.9 Molly Blows Boston Molly was sobering up. . It was a ridiculous situation. Go Bosox! Still. She still had her credit card in the secret pocket inside her mini. Tonight. To fit in. she felt dumb. To survive. She felt like an idiot. assuming the departure monitor didn't lie. She'd bought a Sox jersey three sizes too big. the one she'd used to buy the ticket. She even had on a pair of Red Sox sweatpants. Why were they staring at her? She realized her blouse was clinging to her like a second skin. right. Molly looked like the biggest. which she doubted. She found the perfect outfit. Believe an airport announcement? It would be like believing a horny young grad student who just wanted to meet you for a drink and talk about 'God particles'. intelligent grad student whom guys always gave a second look. and her mini was too mini for anything but a pickup bar. She was at Logan airport waiting for boarding on the plane to Europe leaving in 46 minutes.2. She did not want to look like an attractive. Even if they had identified her by now.
In a lowly position. Enough to pay tuition. She could not return to her natural carrot red. Entrepreneur? She'd made a ton of money in her local gun running business supplying uptown gang lords and upstate militias. but not really a lot. she could finally get rid of the mousey brown hair color she'd adopted in the States.Unfortunately. but still…. Do something unexpected. Could she be more herself in her new phase of hiding out in plain sight? She wondered who herself was these days. she was still wondering what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her mother had made her a Druid. Should Molly seek out other Druids so she could run naked through the woods like she and her mother used to do? Should she worship the mistletoe and the bounty of the earth? Ever since her parents' friends told her their death was "God's Will". with green stripes? Maybe shave it all off. It could be different now. Like the flip of a coin. The terrorist kid was long gone. She'd like to have made her dead parents proud. She didn't care about politics or economics or other such tv reality shows. Especially. . English politicians. Maybe not ever. she hadn't really made a ton. Purple. Science had taught her that nothing was inevitable. along with Fate. not in Britain working with Hawking. of course. But what did that mean? Fight the Brits? Follow her Mom's footsteps into an early grave? She no longer cared about planning the ultimate terrorist pie attack on the Prime Minister or the Royals. Strawberry blonde. of course. to match her pale complexion. Physics and Math were her only friends. You had to play the odds. inevitability. an intern's position. she had no other goal. Life was all probabilities. and stiletto heels. The dedicated grad student? The Druid convert? She didn't know. Molly had put the Christian God on her shit-list. Did she really need to hold on to the Irish hate for the English — which was almost as much a joke like the silly American's feud between the Hatfields and the McMuffins. On the positive side. anyway. room and board for a couple of years at an expensive university. No. Did she really want to back to IRA and use her newly acquired scientific education and skills for destruction? It was all so past tense. Religion didn't matter much to her. but that didn't mean you wouldn't get screwed. maybe. It was the minimax theory Uncle Ownie lived by. She didn't want a husband and family. even though she'd raised Molly as a Catholic and sent her to Catholic schools. Not now. When they called "Boarding" on her flight to Amsterdam. Not enough to call it fuck you money. Molly was going to be working with the smartest man in the world.
2.10 Ice Cave Fever
Patch and Molly had too much adrenaline to sit still. Two people pacing in the tight quarters invariably had to end in some kind of contact. The second time Molly hit Patch with a shoulder, he went for the weed-wacker, and she had her hand in her boot. Louie cooled it down by instructing them to "Take it outside." "Ladies first," said the Zoot-suit warrior. The pigs had formed a semicircle in the snow around us and more of the Porcine Patrol was still in the air. Molly and Patch both laughed. Louie stood guard near the cave entrance. Every once in a while Pachuco's pacing would take him to Louie and they chit-chat. Sometimes it looked like they were joking. Other times like they wanted to smash each other. On one lap, Molly confronted Louie with, "See, I told you. I never had my Beta Test. Look what's happened." Louie was not cowed by the fearless young woman. "You'd traveled a dozen strings." "At random. To understand the different parallel universes. To acquire technology like my laser and the stuff Clydie is bringing. And to make a start on my mapping of the strings. Not to create a route to a specific dimension at a specific time to nail a specific guy and his fucking reindeer." Louie bent his big wide mustached face close until they were nose to nose. "What exactly would you like me to do about it, now, Walsh?" Molly spun away — having to make a quick juke to avoid slamming into Patch again. The ice cave wasn't really large enough for both Molly and Patch to do their frantic pacing. "I can't take this cave." Vinnie then sang the hook from anthem of my high school class, "We Gotta Get Outta This Cave… if it's the last thing we ever do..."
Nobody joined in, although I think we all agreed with the sentiment. "Let's make a break for it," whined Vinnie. "A break for where exactly?" asked Patch. "There's no place to go," said Molly. Vinnie looked at the back door. The door that looked like it belonged in a dungeon. The door with the bar across it that looked like it was there to keep out the three headed dog on the other side. The door that in horror movies, the next-girl-to-die figures must lead to a Starbucks. D’Oliya changed the subject. “Gun-Molly once did Stephen Hawking.” She made it sound really dirty, which I found endearing on a level I didn't want to explore further — at least until I was alone by myself in my SRO with a… oh, never mind. “I interned for Professor Hawking in London, for a semester,” Molly snapped back. “I did not do the great man, exactly. I mean that is a far from a precise expression of our relationship. You might say I handled small tasks and hands-on jobs for him.” “I would have flat out done him,” said D’Oliya. "Given the smartest man in the world a BDSM seminar. Trapped in that chair, I wouldn’t even have to tie him up... unless he begged me to in his cute little electronic voice." Jeez, if D'Oliya would do Little Stevie Hawking... I knew a guy with a wheel chair. I could steal borrow it the next time he climbed off it to get up on a bar stool. I tried to remember if I'd seen FDR earlier that evening. Louie interrupted my line of thought before it could descend to the depths it was destined for. “Molly figured out a way to control alternate realities — which is what we’re in now. Alternate for us, anywho.” He seemed to enjoy bragging Molly up like he was his personal discovery, which I guess she was. “Well, I admit I integrated some of Hawky's principles into my theory.” "She stole it, lock, stock and equations," said Louie as if stealing it was something to be proud of. Like Apaches being proud of stealing ponies. Or politicians of stealing elections. "Actually, I did and I didn't, crib the idea I mean. Yes, I copied some of his work, but it was anything but intuitive. I figured it out only after I left Dr. Hawking and came back to New York City. I was channel-checking the news while working on my Tai Chi. I landed on Glenn Beck guesting on the Sean Hannity FoxNews show. After about 48 seconds, I thought, "What convoluted wormhole did these mad men come through? In what dimension did they learn their history that both agreed was true?" Suddenly it all made sense. "Glenn Beck made sense?" I wondered. "No-o-o-o!" they all said in unison. "Hannity?" "No-o-o-o!" they all said even louder. As if she was talking to a moron, she slowly said, "The Alternate Reality Multi-Universe Transporter" explained Molly as if that explained anything. It didn't. At least to me. “Your Rudy’s Bar is a nexus of improbability. Did I say that right?” asked Louie.
Molly nodded at the boss. "Your dive bar is a place where the strings tangle and untangle. For what we want to achieve on Christmas Eve, this is the one of the best place in all existences." I didn't get it. I tried to put my brain in gear, but I think I had over-lubricated the transmission. Nexus of improbability, huh? Like Rudy's Bar edges on the unreal. That’s the first thing they’d said that almost made sense to me, even though it didn’t really make any sense at all. But I was used to things not making sense... especially after 11pm. “We need to be here, or somewhere like Rudy’s that's a node connected trans-dimensionally to the right parallel universe that's connected to Rudolf and Santa, so we can take our actions past the edge of improbability in order to phase into other dimensions. We're at the exact coordinates." "Oh," I mumbled. "Right, sure, makes a lot of sense." Hey, I excelled at fractions back at St. Thomas More grade school. I eventually got through 'Introduction To Remedial College Math' by taking the course for Physical Education majors, but this String Theory Physics stuff wouldn't have made sense to me, even it made sense to me, which it didn't. "If Clydie ever finds her way here," mumbled Vinnie, a buzz-killer who made the Grinch look like a positive thinker. "If we could get out of this ice cave," accused D'Oliya, like it was all Molly's fault. "To make the improbability thing work, we have to do things," said D'Oliya looking into my eyes, "improbable things. Going boldly where angels fear to tread." "Transporting us to an alternative string-dimension in time and space." Louie said it as if he understood it. “It is like a maze, a ball of strings all tangled up, and we can go from string to string or we can get tangled up, too. Right Molly?” said Louie. “Right. But Paddy, I think I’ve figured out which strings to pull and which ones to cross, and if we set up our own sense of unreality on the improbability curve we can cross over to the next thing. At least theoretically.” She still remembered my name! "More than theory, Molly, because here we are," said Louie. "Assuming we don't destroy any realities, with a little luck and a couple more transitions we can pull off the biggest caper in the history of history in any of 11 to the 11th dimensions." "It'll be legendary," said Pachuco. "Yeah, legendary," piped up Vinnie, "if our heads don't explode. Or we don't explode the entire 11 universes like Hawking warned her about." "They'll write books and songs and blogs about us," said Louie, ignoring the negative waves emanating from Vinnie, Vinnie wasn't assured. "If Clydie shows up, and if we don't miss our window, and get the strings all tangled up. And if we don't end up stuck in this pig-infested glade or have to go back through that door and live in the drunkie's bland reality for all time and space, if that's what's on the other side of the door." I was beginning to seriously dislike this bad-attituded little prick. I vowed to get even by stealing his bar change next time I had the chance.
our lookout Louie yelled. D'Oliya was on her before I could say "girl-fight" and think about them ripping the rest of their already tattered clothes off.Molly came up very close to me. I need a lot more time to work on both the theoretical and engineering ends. what would it mean to them? To me? Would I get another drink? To add to all my other questions. as she said. and an audio recording studio in a small campus in Kilkenny. I understand it well enough to make it work. "Trust me. I could smell the brandy on her breath. "Well. Molly made no effort to side step and they banged together." . "The pigs are coming." I had questions." That bothered me. a D-ring particle accelerator. That's what I want… my dream is… my own lab. because I knew what I meant when I asked someone to trust me. "You really understand all that?" Molly whispered in my ear. but I'll have that after Louie is the Claus. I said softly to Molly. Before my fantasies could come true. Were they going to make their window of improbability? If they didn't make it. "who the hell was Clydie everybody was waiting for'" Did any of it matter if we couldn't get out of this fucking ice cave? And when and where could I take a piss? D'Oliya had joined in on the pacing. The pigs are coming. When she and Molly passed.
. as if the doors at Macy's had opened for the 6am Black Friday Shopping Specials. Molly with her sci-fi gun. Not like that Battle of the something-or-other bridge I read about — where couple of good guys held off a whole lot of bad guys.11 When Pigs Attack! Suddenly. the hogs came at us in herd. We fell back to a spot where the walls narrowed. But it wasn't going to be enough." she yelled. "Where are the other bottles?" I gave her another one which was being kept safe in my bag for emergencies." Shit. so it was still half full. Then Molly ripped off her blouse.2. nobody had a match or a lighter. ripped it into strips. because who remembers anything from history but 1066. and shoved the long pieces in the bottles soaking them. He and Parch made a great team. Louie took her place with nothing but his fists and wrestling moves. It was Molly and Patch who held them off at the bottleneck. Molly ran back and confiscated my brandy bottle which I'd been nursing. They were inside the cave. "Louie. She yelled "Light me. None of the rest of us had ammunition. (I thought it might be good to add some educational stuff here to give you on a bit of history. I leave the name of the bridge and battle as an exercise for the student. Patch with his Pig-Wacker. When Molly's gun when silent. Molly poured equal amounts of brandy in each bottle. so you felt it was worth reading this shit. Louie would set them up. Patch would carve them up. D'Oliya found another the third one. the PartyMob. when King Arthur bought England from the Picts for twenty-four quid. Only one porker could attack at a time. The PigMob vs.
They do that to some people. Molly literally climbed a mountain of dead ceramic pigs. I guess that's why Louie was the leader and I was whatever I was. and it led back to Rudy's where there was a restroom six feet away. I've got to take a piss. because they had provided us with a wall of deadies to block off party of the cave. she must have got a hundred of them. I mentioned Molly had ripped off her blouse and was only wearing a red half bra. Did I mention how the red of the bra sharply it contrasted with pale Irish skin? Or how she had a sprinkling of freckles across the tops of her breasts? Did I say how thin the silky material was. she flung her Molly-tov cocktails where the attacking pig army were the thickest. Like he had with Dolly. Unfortunately. You’ve got no right to kidnap me and transport me over state lines or parallel dimension lines or whatever you did. It still looked like it led to an orc hotel in Mordor. I considered offering Molly one of my trash bag ponchos as a cover-up. and bumping. With the fired brandy splashing this way and that. A couple of dozen at least. Molly lit all three fuses. Nobody mentioned that I had saved the day by saving the brandy. Molly was his discovery. It appeared better off than before their attack. And now we had no more brandy. Fortunately. No. This was his idea. she had her short fur coat to put back on. All alone on the other side of the barrier. Trying to take over. But maybe it was just a door. Walsh. and lighting each other on fire and the general pig panic. including the zipper." said the former Gunnery Sergeant. the front had been ripped up in the fighting. Fortunately. Patch was overstepping. bad idea. And I needed to take a piss. and how it had slipped a little bit to the left in all the action? Did I? No. They were all congratulating each other. We looked like a rag-tag band who dressed so bad we'd have to use the backdoor to pick up free clothes at the Salvation Army store. Retreated." "I need your cigar lighter. because mentioning such intimate things would be uncouth and ungentlemanly." "In my suit coat pocket. "Nice job. "Make a hole!" The did. "I want to go back to Rudy's. I thought they were pretty smart for golem pigs with empty heads. His operation. Each of the gentlemen offered her their suit jackets which were also torn to shreds. I know. The pigs backed off. I would do a Google search on half-bras to further my education. Maybe I should try it. she said no to the guy's suit jackets. try to get Vinnie to try it." I would have said my front pants pocket even if I knew it was in my coat. I screamed."I'm a little busy right now. I had to do something. guys. I'd fight beside you anytime." Louie didn't look happy. A strategic withdrawal. but I was afraid she'd take it. I decided if I survived. "Molly. Who do you guys think you are?" . I checked the door in the back. Believe me. Again. Better idea.
I mean. I could tell Vinnie appreciated their kindness. And I maybe would have if I didn't have to take a piss." I assumed that one was a joke. They tried to feed me more shit about themselves. I thought jealously. D'Oliya grabbed it away." “Our Louie is more than a great drummer and a beer distributor. Now." "And knocking off kids on Halloween and reselling the candy in Mexico for re-import to WalMart. Come on! "Why am I here?" I screamed.’ That didn’t quite work either. and breaking into homes. Give it a 21st century facelift. Paddy. “I love Christmas. we've been doing this sorta thing since we fixed out first spelling bee back in grade school.” said Patch. but I didn't care. Each! We never looked back. The magic touch. I can make up dumber lyrics than that. I didn't care what they were. especially D'Oliya's. That's my job. which explained nothing about what they thought they were doing in kidnapping me. "I totally suck! I had it. even for the kind of people I usually met at Rudy's Bar. “Needs a little work." He'd grabbed D'Oliya's whip and started hitting himself on the back with it. Maybe it was me. but how could they be serious about String Theory and raping garden gnomes. as you know. “I thought about rhyming ‘breaking into cribs’ with ‘stealing babies’ bibs. I love it so much I want to improve it. Heisting all the silver and raping garden gnomes.Louie said they were singers who sang.” said Molly kindly. which made it difficult to make rhymes other than miss and this and kiss. really. ." Pachuco said proudly. “Don't. “He’s like a Jersey Jobs of cartage and numbers. I still didn't care. Flying Pigs? Come on. Hallucinating. Make it better. Louie said. "You hate it!" whined Vinnie." Vinnie stopped and everyone stared at him.75 on bets. because I had to take a piss. “We made $8. smothering his face with her marvelous breasts only pulling away when he started to gasp to turn purple. “Especially the ‘raping garden gnomes’ part. These folks acted serious. I wanted to take a piss. "Patch and me.” laughed Louie. I've lost it. Again. Come on.” she said putting her arm around his shoulder. It was crazy. "Here we go a wassailing. That seemed to perk up the dapper little dude. I really needed to take a piss. He is a visionary businessman. he said gasping. either" said Louie. But maybe it wasn't them that had gone all TeaParty-brained." "Except when we were being chased.” "Sinatra didn't write his own material.” added Pachuco . Louie put his big muscular arm around my shoulder. And I said so.
"Yeah."Nobody ever caught us. Lou. Patch bumped his fist against Louie's." Louie put out a fist." ." "The good old days. we had some. except for them that wished they hadn't.
. He figured he'd earned it. Louie needed a hard guy who could keep his troops in line. Louie's Labians. Yeah. Lord Louie. Maybe produce a reality tv show that took place in one of his chain of Gentleman's Clubs. Louie was ready to put his name on an AC casino. He didn't need Pachuco. His name in lights you could see from NYC. Pachuco. In fact. Louie thought his old pal was a good junior partner in many ways. Louie couldn't let that happen. even without the weed-wacker that drove fear into the toughest of the tough. Pachuco had brought his contacts in the Club world which had certainly helped Louie's beer and liquor business. But Louie was looking forward. To be a household name like the Teflon Don or The Donald. his old grade school buddy was holding him back.12 Back When — Jersey Louie Business was good. His time as a Gunnery Sergeant running a company of hard-ass fire-pissing jarheads had made him a good COO for Louie's many enterprises. He knew he was ready for the big time. Be on the talk shows. That was his old buddy. His contacts in the music world made life a lot more exciting and fun. bringing Patch in was another great decision in a long line of great decisions that had taken Louie to where he was. To be a player on the national stage. His face on the hundred dollar chips. looking back.2. Have his own line of linguini. if not from geosynchronous orbit. Advise Presidents on how to create a new Great Society where rich people like him and corporate executives like him would have titles like they have in England. On top.
. Lord fuckin' Louie! His old friend was losing it. Holding him back? Pachuco thought he should hold Louie's head underwater until he came to his senses. Everything they'd built. Louis was still trying to prove something that could never be proved. It was just like back in school when Patch was the hero. Tony Soprano. and Louis was his sidekick. And he couldn't execute for shit. He was bat-shit. He wanted to be Lord Louie. They'd have to get rid of all their quasi-legal enterprises. His connections with the GalMauro Crime Family gave them entre everywhere and clout where they needed it. maybe hold his fat head under until it didn't matter anymore. Now. And if he didn't. But Louie really didn't understand business. He was a great idea guy. The Lord Louie label was a really bad name. Louie wanted to go high profile. Pachuco couldn't let it happen. He could come up with some wild-ass stuff. He was the Man.2. but he didn't know good ideas from bad. The arrogant Guido wanted to call it the Lord Louie label. Louie even wanted to rename their gangsta rap music company Pachuco had founded. wear condoms… the whole nine yards. or Eric Cartman. rat-shit wacko. Pachuco thought his high school wingman was a good partner in lotsa ways. He wanted to have a "famous name" like Machine Gun Kelly. He was going to fuck it all up.13 Back In The Same When — Pachuco Business was good. pay taxes. Pachuco knew Louie thought that he was holding Louie back. Holding him back? The ungrateful asshole! Pachuco made it all work.
" said D'Oliya." repeated D'Oliya. if Clydie ever shows up.2. "Okay. "If we don't get raped by garden gnomes in the process." "The Easy Street Gnome Cemetery. Easy Street. What did that mean? 'Louie becomes the claws?' "Easy Street. ignoring Vin. . with an expression that made me think he might like it. "A hostile takeover of the holidays is just good business. "Maybe. The mob.. took this time as an opportunity to dream on. and reaching under the slit in her dress.. “We figure taking over Christmas is gonna be a lot more profitable than anything we've gone into since we took different paths. where she kept her throwing stars and other softer weapons a gentleman doesn't mention. and everybody has athlete's foot." added Vinnie." said D'Oliya." offered Vinnie.14 Dreams Of Easy Street The ice cave was still a nightmare to me. probably the one in Toontown in the Gumby universe where all the werewolves are cops. however.” said Pachuco. I still had to piss. grabbing the short shit by the throat. "we'll be on Easy Street. And my butt was freezing. "When we take down the FatMan and Louie becomes The Claus. grabbing the little buzz-kill and pulling his face into her cleavage once more." Vinnie wet-blanketed. "Easy Street!" screamed D'Oliya." "I give up." added Louie. just to shut him up.
Louie didn't know anything about any of that. Poop Doggie's video was on the big screen and Doll was rocking to it. Pachuco knew "Doll" as a hot club babe. filthy lyrics which drew a big enthusiastic crowd. The tall handsome. He'd put out a contract on the Lt. She sang along with herself. Dolly took care of the guy. only using the real actual dirty. When she finally got it. Governor of New Jersey who was a dishonest politician. the definition of an honest politician was one who when bought. He had apparently suffocated. Different kinds of places. athletic Pachuco sidled up and asked if she were really singing. Pachuco was there by an act of serendipity. including them. with a bottle of Crystal up his butt. Each of the guys took D'Oliya great places. The were both connected. The guy who would be Governor was found in a BSDM brothel handcuffed. The event was an after party for a big budget YouTube video release. D'Oliya D'Abo as she was introduced to Louie. took care of it within a week in a most creative way. these guys were on a collision course. Clearly. the woman next to him was one of three hotties on mic. They were afraid what they'd find out would be toxic to any one involved. Poop Dogg heard her and came over and did his rap with her and the screen. and shuts-the-fuck-up. But which one? And what could she do to make sure the survivor owed her big time? . That's what had happened all the other times. brought along by club-slut he barely knew. a penchant for cigars. she thought back on their conversations and complaints. He knew "Dolly" as the Long Island Hit Lady. Louie had someone else burn down the studio that held all the film prints and computers. Yeah. They'd met in Pee Doobie's Club before it went tits up. and a ball-gag in his mouth. Pachuco took his Doll to the NYC clubs and VIP events. Only one partner would survive. stays bought. This politician had a change of heart when it came to greasing the legislative wheels for the construction of an exit off the Interstate that ran right into the front gates of Louie's Liquor Distribution Business. It took a while for her to figure out her two boyfriends were actually partners who didn't know about the other. had Louie's thick mustache.15 D'Oliya — In The Same When As The When Before Which one? One of them was going to kill the other. Who knew for sure? It was not made guys wore Phi Beta Capo keys as club bling.2. Maybe made guys. and who was dumber than Homer Simpson after 22 Duff beers. Pachuco had to look twice. the crowd went crazy. Louie took his Dolly to Vegas and Monte Carlo and like some big casino in Slovenia where she had a "meeting" with an animator who had created a Mafia type character called Mustache Pete who wore a pin-striped suit. But none of the state or local authorities wanted to dig any deeper. When Doll and The Poop went into the bit of the choreography from the video where he pulled up her slit skirt and spanked her. and chained. The lousy pol even went on tv telling people he was against it. Each of them wanted her help to do the deed. A semi-famous video vixen who also sang backup for some of the biggest hip-hop acts in Newark. In the garden state. his Meso-Mesomorph physique.
These barflies were lounge lizards. But this wasn't my Rudy's because these weren't my regulars. the door could lead right back into Rudy's where the bathroom was three quick steps away. really had to. I started to slowly close the door when it was slammed against my head. I had two choices. the smell would give me away. Opening it a crack more. I could get another beer if I dug into my shoe vault. I mean. If it were Rudy's. Music to my ears. I quietly lifted up the huge metal bar that was bolted into the stone next to the door. making a noise like a big-ass door slamming against the shaved head of a moron.2. Literally. I could see a little string of blinking Christmas lights just like Rudy's! I pushed it open farther and took a better look.16 Lounge Lizards I had to take a piss. The beer decided me. what are the odds of getting buyback before the bartender changes shift? The corner relieve-iation option seemed best. I doubt you can comprehend how much of an emergency this can be. esoteric mental exercises I go through all the time — figuring out where to piss. The joint looked like Rudy's with same red duct tape holding everything together. These scaly dudes were evolved from those mean monkey-eating mofos. Jukeboxes with Christmas music and drunk-talk. It sounded like Rudy's as I slowly pulled it open a crack. I really. and I would have saved us all from the flying pigs. Relieve my agony in the back corner which was gross. Or I could see if the strange door with the huge metal bar led back into my favorite dive bar. On the other hand. even if I was not caught letting it all hang out. I listened. These are the kind of challenging. The slammer had a T-Rex head on a . like back in time some T-Rexies ate the monkeys we would have evolved from. but in the confined space. Unless you are an old guy like me. Keeps me sharp for decisions like… if I buy one more beer.
so nobody yelled or screamed to threaten to 86 me. or the site of spatters of blood spinning through the air like a sparkler. D'Oliya dropped the bar. which really made her angry. I think that saved us. We could hear the other Lounge Lizards rushing to the back. The door wasn't going to close because Rexy had jammed his arm in the door. "That's not my Rudy's. "Good to know. given a choice between knocking down a door or finishing their drinks. it seemed that my actions were within their expectations." "What the fuck. because he took a moment to mourn his loss. "It might work. even if it isn't. Anyway." "They don't really…" .seven foot body dressed in a leisure suit. Vinnie had a blade he slammed again and again into the creature's thigh." said Patch. we'd have wished the pigs had gotten us. I'd eliminated the door as an option. On the negative side. They didn't hesitate. Just what a real Hell's Kitchen Lounge Lizard would do. before I could say. that's my excuse and you can't prove it isn't true. Lounge Lizards will choose the drinks every time. D'Oliya was stomping her stiletto heel into its size 24 Converse All Star. "We need action. The pounding subsided. the PartyMob was not in a party mood. Louie took a good punch to the face. Molly was karate kicking it in what I assumed were its reproductive organs. I have to give it up to the PartyMob for bravery. I had almost kinda-sorta probably maybe killed us all. Rex fought back. I never thought I'd say that I love the whirring sound of a weedwacker. He was so surprised he dropped his quart mug of beer. I yelled for help as I tried to hold the door against a bigger stronger drinker who probably did not have as much to drink as I had. but…" "They work. We were fucked. If Patch hadn't started up his weed-wacker and tore into the lizard skin door blocker. What it has singing got to do with anything? How can you sing someone in? What is all this singing all the time. Patch took a two foot scratch that tore into his zoot suit into rags. He kicked Vinnie across the cave. anyway? Who…" Molly answered." Molly considered it. Louie slammed the door. D'Oliya got her hair messed up. But I do now." I said. On the positive side. Depression set in. They all put their backs to it as the lizards tried to break it down. huh?" After our little bit of excitement. pushing on the door. An arm twice as thick as my leg. "We might try to sing Clydie in. The door slammed open and Rexy got a good look at us. rather all of them. "You know about incantations and magic words?" "Yeah. The Rex was punching and clawing. They were in the back. Probably exWestie lizards. because I had gone the other way to give them room. It was not a fair contest. "Sorry." It took all of us. Eventually." I explained.
Back it on down. Made no sense. Then Molly told him she made better plans when she was nine. It was stupid." "That's ridiculous. Heroic actions that would have been the play of the day. But words have power. It was moronic. From where I sat at the cave entrance. Louie finally sided with Molly just to piss off his old boyhood buddy. What a cluster-fuck. Neither Patch nor Molly was buying that. "It doesn't matter." I replied. Brave bullshit. It's out there. at least they agreed on something. D'Oliya went to the cave entrance. D'Oliya stepped in. Molly said she knew best because this was like guerrilla fighting. "Lee Greenwood's "I'm Proud To Be An American was the catalyst for the arrogance.44 in his hand and death in his eyes. I asked. Group chants have more. He was lucky when he feels the hundred feet or so that he landed in a snow drift. "You didn't know the Beatles' music started an underground movement that had more to do with the fall of Communism in the Soviet Union than any politician. D'Oliya was such a whirlwind. I didn't want to watch. "Pachuco. Fine. Louie tried to pull rank as the leader. Vinnie saved D'Oliya by jumping on a flying pigs back. You make the plan. nationalism and meaningless wars that led the United States downward spiral to become a second class country worse off than England or Greece. "I need my keyboard. but…" Molly continued. Three leaders who wouldn't follow. Yadda-yadda-yadda. All took nasty wounds from the Flying Pigs. You're the real soldier trained to do this sort of thing. Patch shoved Louie and he fell. bouncing back up with his empty . I did see a show about it on PBS." they screamed in unison. I tried not to. Louie had a plan." They looked at me." She looked at Vinnie who nodded in agreement. And songs have power to change the world. All to sing a stupid song. confident as usual in my analysis of things I knew nothing about. I won't bore you with all the details of their brave sortie to retrieve D'Oliya's keyboard. Patch said he was the best trained." "Well."No. the high points were when I saw a glimpse of Molly's Merry Christmas underwear as she kicked the head off a flying pig. "Do I get a vote?" "No. Dolly looked stern. if fighting flying pigs was a sport with a New York team in first place. Well." It was leaning up against the totem pole in the center of the clearing. But Molly's karate screams kept grabbing my attention and ." Louie took out his mic. they don't always work. At least twenty yards away. "Not again. All over a stupid instrument case. I almost missed her breasts falling out." Surprisingly they did.
What was wrong with me? The set up by the door. "We need the right song that resonates on a visceral level. in retrospect. D'Oliya . But it is not worth the telling any of this because I barely saw any of it. And I need them. and general heroic-ness.Vinnie and Louie sharing his mic." said Molly. that should piss her off big time. In asshole vision… I always think of hindsight as Asshole Vision… anyway. and all I could think of was that I had to take a piss. "How will she know it's for her?" asked Vinnie. I could have said I was creating a distraction. "That's the whole point. like a screamer? Louie and Pachuco may have been at each other's throats in the cave. I didn't do shit. But I didn't. The story of my life. everybody has always ripped off Chuck Berry and by now he must be used to it. Like a homing beacon. I downloaded some loops. She said "I'm going to try to broadcast it to her handheld. I think while the fighting was going on. Molly came over to me. Molly on my Mac. Well. determination. And if seen. You know. I could have made it behind a pine tree to take care of the important business. The PartyMob succeeded in rescuing D'Oliya's keyboard case by grit.making me wonder if she were a screamer. The most spectacular was when Patch stepped into Louis hands and Louie flipped him ten feet in the air where he took down three pigs at once with his pig-wacker. thinking about taking a piss. all while I watched from the door. "Do you all remember Vinnie's version of Run." said Molly." . I need your Mac." Oddly enough. "Of course not." I wondered how an old Chuck Berry tune could help. but they worked together like a Circ du Soleil act with mayhem on their mind." "Will that work?" asked Vinnie. Patch providing weed-wacker percussion." said Louie. superior fighting skills. "Paddy. "Our song should go across the Strings and bring her here. Run Rudolph?" "Yeah. I didn't hesitate giving it to her.
2. The whole apparition looked like something for MythBusters to debunk. my eyesight couldn't be that bad. Rudolph They sang. No. Maybe all of this was just one big-ass hallucination. The vintage car was like totally over packed with a twelve foot high pile of bags and boxes and stuff I couldn't identify all in the front and back seats. There didn't seem to be a driver of the Caddy. but I'd never hallucinated before this evening. I thought about it for a moment more and decided knocking off songs is better than knocking off people. I saw something. . Beer run. It wasn't even a logical hallucination. I thought they were talking this song-knockoff thing to extremes. Rudolph. I have no depth perception which is good because it kept me out of the Vietnam. wasn't a bird at all. which was good training for my current occupation. The Flying Pigs must have been baffled. It looked like it was a big flying horse pulling what looked like a big red '54 Caddy convertible packed with twice as much stuff as the Grinch's sleigh. No. Flydeer’s gotta get us some brew. 'Cause we want to party with you. My eyes aren't too good. Santa make him hurry. or lack thereof. I was baffled. It also wasn't a man of steel. Anyway. and even my misspent middle age. Jeez. so I could stay in the US of A and become a hippie. too. At least not just drinking bar booze. It wasn't a pig. it was a big bird hauling a plane behind it! Huh? I squinted. Tell him take up to mach 2 Beer run. everybody was looking up into the star-filled sky. Suddenly. Rudolph. It wasn't a bird! It wasn't a plane. either. too. I squinted. I've had some memory lapses in the morning following an evening when I've been over-served by sadistic bartenders.17 Beer Run. so I didn't have to run to Canada and become a hippie. How fkdup was I? In my misspent youth. They'd taken up a v-position above and behind the Caddy.
Or the Ned Beatty character in Deliverance. Or the astronaut dude who landed on The Planet Of The Apes. I was not going to make it back to the cave. I say start it tonight. Taking over Christmas. . I'm flyin' down so you better get this caper started.18 Get This Christmas Started The car radio must have been playing on the Caddy because there was music I was hearing wasn't from the PartyMob. It swerved erratically trying to kick at the pigs. It was another epic battle. that's our holiday thing. I'm flyin' down so you better get this Christmas started I'm flyin' down so you better get this caper started. I felt like a sixty three year old Macaulay Culkin like in Home Alone 145. But it wasn't another epic battle. I think it sounded like that P!NK song. Ed impression. It did no damage. period. As they accelerated into the night sky and across the moon I thought I heard Vinnie singing the Fifth Dimension's "Up! Up! And Away!" I felt like I did as a kid when the cool kids ditched me. They gave up on the Caddy and dive bombed me. It didn't even knock over the stuff that filled the seats like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I was not going to make it back to Rudy's. it shattered them into ceramic butcher shop cuts. which when the swinging caddy connected. It didn't stop it either. The music was loud like it was coming through arena speakers. They were carrying their instruments. They pummeled the Caddy with snowball like they had us. Only the words were wrong and it was being sung by what sounded like Mickey Mouse doing a Mr. Then as the Caddy was closing in on us. we give our word. That was the wrong thing to scream when the sky was full of Flying Pigs. I was not going to make it. When the hogs went after the Caddy puller. Damn-shit-cokesacker-muthaforker-dog-breath-crap-eating-catamite-transvestite-and-gosh-darnit! The PartyMob were still battling the pigs as they took off. I'm flyin' down so you better get this Christmas started. they went to Kamikaze maneuvers. Doing Christmas parties where we drink and we sing.2. Our party's gonna kick ass. although mostly it's third. No! They were hopping aboard the Caddy as I was zipping up. they had better luck. With a lot of class. which looked to me like a deformed Clydesdale. Get this Christmas started. and hugging each other. The PartyMob started whopping and breaking into applause. PartyMob ain't waitin' for the day to arrive. This was the signal for the Flying Porcine Force to go on the attack. the Mob rushed out to help. I screamed "Sooie!" Damn and all that other stuff. As the Caddy came in for a landing. I guessed. I rushed out to take a pee behind a tree. bashing themselves against the car. Molly had my Mac. I was concentrating on not peeing on myself.
.My whole life passed before my eyes. Mostly it looked like a dive bar.
grab my arm and swing me into the Caddy like a cowboy hero rescuing his poor sidekick who had the brain of a casaba melon. Actually. I said something like FuckinA! three or four times. Mostly it looked like a dive bar. yelling for me to get off . but was good for comic relief. As the Caddy sped by.19 Rescue Me I felt like I did as a kid when the cool kids ditched me. It was the PartyMob returning for me. I squinted into the bright moonlight. A big horse was pulling the red convertible. Up in the sky above the pigs. period. Molly threw something like a snow globe at a pig that had me in its piggy sites. Patch swung me over the windshield into the laps of Molly and Dolly wedged amidst a huge pile of stuff. Molly was relieved I'd made it. It was a bird. Louie held Pachuco's belt so he could lean way out. She hit it and the evil porker swerved away with a cracked chest. The girls were in the car surrounded by boxes and bags and more bags and stuff.2. Or the Ned Beatty character in Deliverance. I was not going to make it. Or the astronaut dude who landed on The Planet Of The Apes. Louie and Pachuco were sitting on the front hood. then reach way the fuck outer. That was the wrong thing to scream when the sky was full of Flying Pigs. I screamed "Sooie!" Damn and all that other stuff. My whole life passed before my eyes. I was not going to make it back to Rudy's. I was not going to make it back to the cave. I felt like a sixty three year old Macaulay Culkin like in Home Alone. It was… you know where I'm going with this. so I won't. D'Oliya started pummeling me. " O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' I chortled in my joy. They gave up on the Caddy and dive bombed me.
" "I always wanted to meet Dumbo. We were in a place where 'Pigs Could Fly' What could I expect? Yeah. and bags. But I thought about doing it. You know. I was not going for a cheap thrill. and hitting me hard. Nobody. "The best choice would be Paddy's dimension or the one closest to it. although I'm no expert in horses' asses. We had gotten away. I heard Louie yell. "Any one of the half a dozen strings where Rudy's bar and Santa Claus co-exist. depending. but we were crunched in-between all the boxes. and sprains. Louie was obviously trying to lose the flying ham-heads on our six. From the back. When it turned. The horse had big phony antlers on. "So messy. It got better. We were further decorated with all kinds of cuts. Or worse. Ahhhhhh! Molly yelled over the sound of the wind. Or the sitar rock licks in a Bollywood music video. That tennis player grunting was really annoying." "Somewhere like where elephants fly?" I wondered. the big horse pulling the Caddy looked like a Clydesdale. I did. We looked a mess. But we were ecstatic. covered in grey ceramic pig dust with colorful splotches of Rex blood red." The Caddy convertible swerved that way. Its harness was extensive and covered in Christmas tree lights. Hey. "We've got to make a transition sometime between six to eight minutes. "Clydie! Into that fog bank. It was! It was probably because she was hitting me." finished Molly." yelled Patch from his position on the hood. " . I tried. that my face kept falling onto her left breast. I noted the big red nose. I made up all that stuff about pulling down D'Oliya's dress and exposing her magnificent fun bags. Like idiot tourist wearing a statue of liberty crown — which in Hell's Kitchen is like a sign saying "I'm from Indiana. battery operated I assume. if I made motorboat noises.her. Almost as bad as Vinnie's whining. bruises. It was a total accident that I pulled down the top of D'Oliya's dress. but were still in sight and sound. Rip me off. We were all torn up. I was in a flying car pulled by some kind of flying horse with no wings. Our clothes were ripped. They had fallen back. It blinked at the same rate as the tail light of an airliner on approach. it was because I was just happy to be saved. Very Rudolph-The-Red-Nosian. Really! Okay. The flying pigs were still in pursuit." "To where?" demanded Dolly loudly. like one of the huge beer-wagon pulling horses. And I had taken my piss. and junk that filled the Caddy's front and back seats. "I certainly hope not. And I did make motorboat noises." responded Molly. But nobody was driving. at least the ones that are attached to four legged creatures. but it appeared we were much faster. Then I remembered what Molly had said. Only this one was decorated for the holiday season.
Clydie Deerest. It's their destiny to kill each other. I was tired of listening to him kvetch. Same for us." "Believe what you want. Better in every way. "We haven't made it yet. I hated women smarter… no. If we were a basketball. feminist Rudolph."Clydie?" I asked Molly because there was no one else for Louie to be directing. I heard D'Oliya say. have we? Even if we get to the right place.” Huh? Louie and Patch were punching each other in the arms and goofing around on the hood of the car. softly. D'Oliya yelled into my ear. "We should stop them." "Like the curse of the Billy Goat making the Chicago Cubs lose. "Like Inshallah.” What reality? Where in any of this was there any freaking reality? The Maria grunts were fading. is gonna be the new Rudolph — a better." said Molly. kinkier. Whatever will be will be. “Now our girl. you'd call it being dribbled. "I don't believe that shite. “Clydie is formerly of the Clydesdales you probably saw on tv… in your former reality. You make your own space in whatever string you're on." Then D'Oliya sang "Que Sera Sera. Red Suit may not be so easy to take down." corrected Molly casually. I'd hate all women." ." "Sumatra. She nodded. Idiots! "Where's Vinnie?" I yelled over the howling wind. "Or that everything happens for a reason. not true. Someday those two senior delinquents will be getting it on… like in that place in the bible where the guy rode all night to escape his fate and the Grim Reaper was waiting for him with a bucket of fried chicken and a one-way ticket. trans-species." "Destiny?" I asked." I said." I mumbled. "That's just the way life is." she said in a quieter voice they wouldn't hear. Whatever you want to call it. "I tied him up and threw him in the trunk. A big wind picked up the caddy and bounced us up and down. Like there wasn't danger of a fall that would break a meteor in 8. and I didn't have the time or inclination to teach him a lesson. We must be pulling away from the Bacon Bombardiers. better dressed. "Samarra. Like they were ten years old again.567 pieces. If I hated all women who were smarter than me. D'Oliya disagreed in a whisper. Fate." Molly was worried about the antics of Louie and Patch." "We're the proof that's not true. Kismet. showing off my Jeopardy chops. "Nothing can stop those two from going at it. let alone two goombas." argued Molly.
"You never know when a weed-wacker will come in handy. I asked. Or over a power struggle in their business. and that it went down in the next two to four minutes when the vibrating strings came into harmony. the aw shucks. but I like my line better.) The wind direction was now changing every few seconds. You know in the movies. "Good catch. "Yo. But there was no string where they both survived.2." "You were there when it happened?" I asked D'Oliya said softly. Or over a game of Risk. Molly said 'dumber than a Texas Governor'. "To which one?" I asked. Why can't the guys in the movies be like more real? Like more like me? And these . in case you're a freak for accuracy. so blow me if you don't believe in artistic license." Louie turned back toward us. One had always killed the other over a woman they were both boffing. "Then they aren't from the same dimension placey?" "Different parallel universes. Had he heard? The wind picked up and the caddy started to bounce and buck like my twenty dollar girlfriend. then why are you here?" Molly demanded. D'Oliya jumped in defensively." said D'Oliya. it seems. Molly! he yelled. I had to make a choice. It was the thing that made me believe in this sci-fi crap." Molly explained that Louie told her the two of them made a great team — that he needed Patch for this caper. In different strings. That they had never failed when they had each other's backs. "And it seems Pachuco took out Louie in the dimension you found him. (Actually. "Did he really kill Pachuco?" Dolly nodded. I hate fucking heroes. and I'm writing this thing. They had grown in different ways and they didn't want their old personal baggage and old competition." Molly told us she'd heard some things from Louie. Patch lost traction and slid off the car. "That I'm sure of."If you don't believe in this. I took poetic license and put in the porn star part. that's what make you that guy horseshit." Putting two and two together and getting 2." Dolly nodded toward our fearless leaders who were now arm wrestling. "What do we sing and when do we start?" Gun-Molly screamed back that they could sing anything as long as it was as dumber than a porn star interview. Pathological Patty. "They left me no choice. He told Molly to hijack Pachuco from another string where they both survived their disagreement." said Pachuco as if Louie had just reached into the stands to haul in a foul ball. We caught a wind shear that blew us thirty feet sideways." replied Louie as if it were no big deal. "I have a debt to pay. We all froze. "It wasn't my fault. "Both. to both. He was airborne for an instant before the muscular Louie grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.
both hood surfers grabbed the top of the windshield and hung on like their… well. I guess their lives did depend on it. Or maybe super hero cartoon characters. The two old buddies performed a high and low five. . then when another buffet buffeted us.fuckers were like movie characters.
I wondered who-the-fuck was singing. I wanted a hit. Very hokey. I thought. . Molly was keeping track of something on my computer." She thrust her hand into the air like she wanted the teacher to call on her. That swirling fairy dust thing. But Partymob gangsters get the hot dolls. Everything is cool in the mind of a gangster. Damn. "Keep going. A Partymob gangster ain’t no weenie. and we steal Christmas songs. so I did.20 Damn! I heard the strange Mickey Mouse-Kermitty voice start to rap. Partymob gangsters gets free valet. The convertible dropped thirty feet straight down. their faces and bodies pressed against the windshield. "It's alive!" They didn't. "Was one of them going to yell. It wasn't them. "We transitioned. Cuz Partymob gangsters got the meatballs. Wanna-bee gonna-bees are flashin’ everybody how they’re big time. Molly yelled. Keep going." Who was singing? Vinnie from the trunk? In a chipmunk voice? If he had nitrous oxide. We’re the PartyMob. Molly's ring on her raised hand started to glow like it had when we were 86d from Rudy's. The buffeting was getting worse. Something's happening. We need to get closer. I looked at the two hoods on the hood. babe. But Santa is just a legend here. The rapping continued. A Partymob gangster’s always stylin'. She yelled. There was a burst of thunder and lightning all around us. it kicks ass to fly with gangsters. A Partymob gangster parties his way.2.
what the freak ya gonna do? Damn. It's such a damn blast. hugging me. I prefer the smell of stale beer. "Brilliant! We made it! The singer finished with: Damn. Molly's ring had that strange glow again. "Shite! We only have another minute or we're stuck here. Keep singing. I had no idea why. But this Rudy's is a Gay Bar for Astrologist Stock Brokers. You did it! Take us down. Or maybe Molly's ring. old-timey carol-singing pranksters." screamed Molly. Lighting! Just what we needed. when the carols are gone. Molly yelled. Damn. I would have guessed it was aiming at us. what the freak ya gonna do? Damn. it kicks ass to fly with gangsters. gonna-be Soprano-lovin’." And all I gotta say to you wanna-be. Operation Red Suit Down. but who cares! . I hugged her back. it kicks ass." And all I gotta say to you Christmas-past. when the hip get to hoppin'. I've never smelled lighting before. "We transitioned again. it kicks ass to fly with gangsters. here we come. which she was again holding high up over her head like Lady Liberty held her torch. it kicks ass to fly with gangsters. Molly checked my computer and yelled over the thunder. as Molly's ring flared again. Like it was projecting one of those cool cosmic photos from the Hubble Telescope. As did Louie's sapphire tie-tack and the stone on the end of the handle of Pachuco's weed-wacker. The thunder rolled. If lightning had a brain. WTF? Molly yelled.Partymob gangsters like linguini. candy ass. carol-singing pranksters. "She did it.
each with 11 permanent dimensions. I have also integrated probability theory. Relativity Theory was able to provide answers at a universe-wide level. It is still used in backward cultures to create entertaining toys like thermonuclear explosives. you went to heaven. stories and magic words. 5:22 am It is now possible to engineer a device that will allow travel to alternate universes through string space. I have developed original string theory equations which are valid on both micro and macro levels. like F=MA. Schrödi. Albert Einstein created Relativity Theory. gravity. Then came Newtonian theory more or less built on simple equations. which were based on simple experiments of the observable world.PART THREE 3. If you sang at church and tithed. I have been able to construct a prototype of a Multiple Universe Superstring Harmonizer and Transport Device that performs across 1010 of the 1111 string-spaces. which is a key to creating the right kind of frayed string from which to trigger transportation to alternate dimensions and universes. Al was never heard of again. When Einstein attempted to integrate Quantum Theory into Relativity Theory. Then came Quantum Mechanics. in particular. was so obsessed with his cat's existence.1 — Multiple-Universe Superstring Transition Devices Rule Posted by Molly Walsh. The problem with Quantum Physics was that it was not predictive of macro events like the universe. I have discovered a corollary to probability theory I call Improbability Theory. however. he failed. As a result. Quantum Theory worked superbly in predicting atomic and sub-atomic events. mini-max game theory into my Theory of Multi-Dimension Superstrings. Underlying Science Back when technology was a sharpened stick. Religion was very predictive in the sense that if you sacrificed a virgin. that everything Quantum became uncertain. For example. and balls on a rubber sheet. which you may know a small piece of as E=MC2. Newtonian physics could predict when an apple fell out of a tree. how hard it would fall on the head of a scientist sleeping off a mead hangover. which works out to over a ten billion alternate realities. Utilizing superstring research data from experiments performed at the Cern particle accelerator and on my personal adaptations of Little Stevie Hawking's theoretical work. May 6. refined uncertainly by Werner Heisenberg in 1925. and later by Erwin Schrödinger in 1935. the search for rational explanations of everything led early man to religion — which was built upon parables. invented by Max Planck in 1899. By string-space I mean 11 permanent universes. the volcano god would probably go back to sleep. Actually. . and ended his days in a backwater of New Jersey.
The process begins by creating a string-fray… an aberration on our current string. It is like little hair sticking out of a string. 1. to transfer people or objects into a string dimension on the same timeline — into another parallel universe. You can also create a fray that when acted upon by my iMust. it's the math. String Theory is also called the theory of everything by people who don't know much about anything but computers and quarks. For our purposes. we don't need to go too deeply into verbal explanations of vibrating micro-filaments in supersymmetry. the same dimension. three things can happen. The Problem Physical objects have a tendency to return to their natural state. A fray can be created. There are also sub-atomic black holes that exist inside everything. I'm assuming you don't have the math. When a person makes a series of improbable choices. is the existence of alternate universes — which I have discovered can be accessed. It was upon these I constructed my power and transport devices. Most people are aware of the mega black holes created by a star exploding and imploding. It goes nowhere and will revert to the main string relatively quickly. It attempts to explain how gravity and quantum physics fit together. I am able to fit a sixteen carat sized power plants on a platinum band — very similar to a tasteless engagement ring which a large-breasted reality tv star might receive from a Texas HoldEm Champion. I said a mini-black holes.e. for purposes of this blog and my patents. To paraphrase a political scientist of our times. Nature is all about inertia. 2. traveled to. The Good Vibrations Methodology To facilitate our transitions to alternate universes. We accomplish this by creating highly improbable situations in which we utilize musical vibrations. i. which remains part of the same universe. The importance of string theory. The Transporter Mechanism I have been able to suspend these mini-black holes in a crystalline maze that resembles a Peruzzi cut blue sapphire. allows you to be transitioned into a different string — essentially jumping to a new dimension. Transporter Power Source My Multi-Dimension Transporter is powered by the sub-microscopic black holes existing between atoms. At the point where another string is harmonically in tune. An object at rest. I have discovered that everything is tied together with strings in granny knots. Yes. I employ an iMust (multiple universe string transporter) of my own design. tends to remain at rest. Black Holes are the basis of the sci-fi worm holes that are predicted to be the off-ramps of the 26th century. stupid. powered by the mini black hole.String theory was the next iteration. I used the black holes that exist in the atoms of Powers Irish Whisky for my experiment stage. An object that is moving tends to continue moving unless . And I have the tools to do it. Good vibrations. This is a small discontinuity. For sentimental reasons. we have a window of opportunity in which we can use the iMust. 3. so I'll try to squeak by on analogy. A new string can be started… a long term or short term string.
resistance. Very Christopher Columbusish. a transport window opens to nearby strings. as opposed to a mere ten billion. we can direct the transfer overcoming dimensional inertia.acted on by an outside force. We create improbabilities in the same way ancient witchdoctors drew power from other universes — with words. When a new string is created it has a tendency to revert to its original state. . we'd have a new dimension every time we decided what dressing to put on our salad. The way it works is we harmonize our string with a nearby string and make transfer over when the improbability quotient is strong enough. such as gravity. By creating improbabilities in the current string by doing improbable things. it is difficult to navigate to a specific string because we can not see it or take the measure of it until we arrive there. it tends to snap back to original reality. it makes that snap-back more difficult and slower. dimensions and universes. We create the improbabilities and the harmonics and basically take a jump into the unknown. If this were not the case. There are no maps of the string universes. There is no sheet music.e. or Congress. like a rubber band. giving us our opportunity to fool Mother Nature (MoNat). If that were not the case. Navigation At this stage. music. there would be an almost infinite number of strings. we can extend the fray. and with the correct amount of power (≈ six x 1061 Energizer Bunnies). We play it by ear in many ways. When improbabilities occur in a string. The key to the efficacy of my transporter is to be on the other string when both snap back. Using string theory for multi-dimensional travel is many ways more like rubber band theory — because after the string/rubber band is stretched. With the right power surge. Nature has normal expectations that provides for a limited number of strings. Nature wants to return to the original state. It is the same with strings. the new fray can interact i. and actions that are outside the norm. cross over to another string. By creating an improbable number of improbabilities. My discovery is that when a frayed string is extended through a series of improbable events.
the caddy convertible full of more shit than a congressman. but alight with patio lights. In summer. The cacophony of cars made it sound like home. Against the side walls were those shelvey-thingies with an outside lip to hold drinks. of course. Home Again The PartyMob and their panicked kidnap victim. The space was shoehorned between three other brownstones at the back and on the sides. but the picnic table still was. It was big enough to hold a picnic table and some guys standing around smoking. too. It was bright enough to see the snow falling softly. There were five or six electric outlets scattered around there. The sole survivor of summer was a big heavy round table with a large Cinzano umbrella in the center. The one we should have been in when Dandy 86'd us. it was winter and cold. You could probably fit 3/4 of a tennis court on the brick floor. it looked like the home away from the home I didn't have. the PartyMob. even Christmas cardishly. Rudy's Backyard Patio. It was still night. although why anyone in Hell's Kitchen would want 3/4 a tennis court is beyond me. The one I knew. Other than that and six inches of snow. mostly youngish. it was home. And the stale beer smell mixed with weed that permeates even the great outdoors around here… Yes. almost magically. The patio was a big empty space behind the dive bar. The usual smokers weren't there. the area was full of tables and customers. of course. the patio was empty — except for the horse. . and me.2 — Home Again. Yes.3. The door back into Rudy's lived on a little balcony five steps off the ground. The one I remembered. But it wasn't summer. me. landed in what looked like the backyard patio of Rudy's.
The torn-up. too. if you think there is something sick about a seemingly mature gentleman who thinks about a snow globe getting a wack job to make the snow come. but Louie's next words stopped me. "You great big beautiful doll." Louie turned to Vinnie. My court appointed shrink thought so. "More drinks!" I started for the back door to the bar. and I was fucking freezing my ornaments off. Hey. The big clunky flying horse had just landed us in the snow like a Harrier." "Brilliant. and her bounciness upped the level of my ecstaticism to an eight point five. and these uh. when D'Oliya let out of the trunk. Clydie pawed the ground modestly. gangster musicians. like the big dumb horse with the big dumb fake antlers could understand. battle-weary PartyMobsters were as ecstatic as I was at having made it back. seemed to take the miracle in stride. "The good stuff in the Caddy!" That was the cue for the wind to pick up and the snow really start to come down. Louie looked over at me. running over and giving the horse a big hug. it probably wouldn't phase them. I could not imagine living in a world with no rules. so I'm not going to let her read anymore of this. Na-na-na-na-naaa-naa. If my boxer shorts ran for Mayor and won. . I guess it wasn't a miracle to them. "God. To the Mob boss I must have looked like a comic book cartoon with a balloon above my head that said. you are no doubt correct. bedraggled. D'Oliya was jumping up and down like a little kid. “Clydie Deerest!” shouted Vinnie." shouted Molly. I need a drink. The wind was Chicago cold. It was snowing like a snow globe being given a handjob. no natural laws — where craziness ruled.
again. The gang moved so fast and with such coordination. the freaking Christmas lights kept shinning. "Dive. I thought it was like call to stations in some submarine movie. "We're on the clock. Bizarre stuff. Dive!" Everybody ignored me.3 Keystone Cops Construction Molly turned to Pachuco. Gunny!" In his Sergeant's voice. I identify with any Wilford Brimley character. "Commence Operation Rockwell. T-65." So I yelled it. and he'd lose his voice. .3. Christmas stuff. being screwed for life." The gang quickly removed the harness from huge animal. horse with antlers? Its red nose kept blinking. only without the klaxons. or a ménage with groupies. but old Wilford wasn't in this particular movie. The horse was still decked out in lights like a big brown Christmas… uh. so it was no longer attached to the Caddy. But I digress. Vinnie was doing whatever he did. and nobody was yelling. Yeah. Pachuco shouted. I have always identified with the Don Rickles character in that flic. Let's get barreling. mumbling about not making it. The Caddy's seats and trunk were piled high with lotsa stuff. Lately. never having a hit single. One could only hope. and his feet were wet and he was going to catch pneumonia. They must have been too young to see the Gable/Lancaster movie. Furniture stuff. "Dive. "Are we back on schedule?" demanded Pachuco as he pulled a huge roll of heavy bricky stuff out of the caddy's trunk. dive.
Vinnie pulled more bottles labeled Courvoisier VSOP out of the Caddy. pool hall. . Now my cartoon companions were doing a Keystone Cops imitation and constructing some kind of something that included what looked like a tatty couch stolen from a great grandmother."We will be — if we hurry. look like cartoons. Disney had bought up half of Times Square. Bernards carry little barrels of medicinal Christian Brothers brandy for guys in shock like I was? I was probably going to blow chunks anyway." yelled the little guy as they started setting up the stuff in the bar's backyard patio. a poinsettia. We all looked like cartoons. As he passed in front of me. He opened the huge tree like it was a big golf umbrella. "Uh. He shook his head and said. Ashton! Come out. more less sense? We were fucking Toons! Maybe I'd been transported to Fantasyland." OMG. I thought maybe I should go inside and grab a beer. Didn't those big St. as she grabbed what looked like a tall thin fish tank which would have become a Frisbee if D'Oliya hadn't given her a hand. so I poured another snifterful. and one of those cutesy Dickens’ Villages that included a town hall. It was like watching a flower blossoming at high speed on the Tulip Channel. He fought the wind and snow for every inch before he set it right in the center where the Cinzano umbrella used to be. like to some prearranged plan. A short bar that wasn't there a minute ago. packed like Harpo Marx pockets — in which there was no end to the stuff that you could pull out. Shit-in-a-shoebox. And the legendary Native American beanstalk. I don't know. "Duh. Post-Traumatic Drunk Syndrome. After all. uh. Triple WTF!!!!!!!! With a side of OMG. as he wrestled with a big-ass Christmas tree he'd yanked out of the Caddy's trunk. "We'll never make it in time. How could I not have noticed? You could have knocked me over with a sip of O'Doul's. leaning into the wind to keep his balance. a couple of unmatched barstools. This was also the spot where the totem pole stood in the Flying Pig universe. WTF! Louie was schlepping a giant mirror. come out. but I had no beer money." answered Molly. I was beginning to look like a cartoon. No. Now it made. the brandy would be better. It didn't make sense before. you. wherever you are! I trudged through the snow to get some of the brandy Vinnie had set up behind what looked like a real bar." He gave me a look like I had lost my mind. you know. Louie was whistling the "Hi Ho" song from Snow White. Maybe I was suffering the effects of a two dozen years of intensive barstooling. a rocking chair. I noticed my reflection wasn't what it was supposed to be. and free VD Clinic. fire station. I said casually to Pachuco as he flew by trying to find a place for the poinsettia. I now seemed to be in a Toon reality where flying Clydesdales just dropped out of the sky with red '54 caddies in tow — full of more stuff than a fleet of Lady Gaga tour trucks. I rationalized. two worn easy chairs. Maybe this was a new Wackoland right behind Divebarland.
" said Louie holding onto the center table to keep from being blown away. not just wide. He wasn't a bad snow surfer. just so I wouldn't get my Salvation Army Seersucker jacket wet." she chirped. shit! The big stupid looking horse with the stupid fake antlers talked! It talked. "Saving us. She touched her a key on my computer. "Check out this app I picked up in the dimension where Florida was part of Mexico. My computer! There was a sizzle above us. If I had had one. it gave me goose bumps. The café au lait skin on her thighs was so covered in bright red goose bumps. D'Oliya tried to help him." said D'Oliya trying to get up. "Time to get tough. Vinnie yelled." shouted Louie. Vinnie whined." said Pachuco as the wind blew him across the patio. "It's no good. I couldn't help thinking she still looked hot even on her butt. It was the voice that sang the songs that helped us make the last transition. For a while." "For all of us. Give me Christmas or give me death. "Damn right. the muscular Louie was strong. but slipped in the wet snow. A blast of wind. but slipping back into the snow. Unless there was a ventriloquist among the mob. The wind was blowing harder. The snow was falling harder. Molly took that moment to key her handheld. Anyway. This is it for me. Man. bashing into the caddy. assuming I'd left my trash bag raincoat somewhere else. But I could have written about it faster if I didn't digress so much. who was crawling toward the Caddy to get another load. it'd be an umbrella that some kind person had left in the bar." she cried from a sitting position with her legs all catawampus. When the table was torn out of his hands and bashed against the side wall. "Aheeeey!" cried little Vinnie as the wind turned a table he was carrying into a sail. No way! . It generally took me longer to open a real umbrella. you can help with the couch." I volunteered. and Al Gore was President. Then no wind at all. I looked up. "We are not giving up. the Christmas tree went up faster than my writing about it. oh. The brandy in my glass was emptying faster. with her ripped clothes covered in Rex blood and cold wet snow. "We're not going to make it. Ed Meets The Sopranos? That voice. over the growing blizzard." said Louie. "Isn't there anything I can do?" said the Chip and Dale voice that came out of… Oh. but you did the most important job already.” yelled D’Oliya. "We gotta make it. I hope you're not in a hurry. It was… Unreal! “Clydie Deerest. It wasn't out of the Caddy's sound system. when I'd had an umbrella. None."I claim this new West Pole for the PartyMob." intoned Louie cryptically. Had I fallen into a Nick at Night Christmas episode of Mr. man." "We could go inside. I'm all in on this caper.
It was like a next generation X-Box 360 thingie. I figured I didn't know what I was doing. and about as useful for making a fire. The instant tree seemed to have a parabolic star on top that turned in circles like a radar dish. "Did you know Clydie was a star in a Budweiser Christmas commercial?" "Molly mentioned it. Vinnie and Pachuco were assembling something made out of sheets of the bricky stuff. I thought I should help. It looked like a real tree with lights. I helped by staying out of way and offering helpful advice like. The Mobster construction crew was moving so fast. She died on it. Not like the ones in an NYC apartment which are about as wide as a toilet." I wasn't quite sure of anything right then. "We're behind. ladies!" Louie took the big-ass machine thingie to the porch by the back door in the raised area that overlooked the whole patio. What did you get for a Toon who could steal anything? . I wondered what they were. I thought I saw cartoon speed mark following them. She and Louie had set up what looked like the tall thin fish tank with the machine. I mean. I tried to image the cross-dressing Clydie in the Budweiser string.It was like there was a force field all around us. Some of the ornaments looked like Louie and the mob in Christmas outfits. "Move it. and Hip-Hop collector cards. and they sure did. Shit-onthe-half-shell! It was a fireplace. keeping the snow and wind from blowing in. if such a good-guy would carry a weed-wacker instead of a collection bucket. Like totally awesome! Louie took it in stride and immediately picked up some big piece of equipment. although she had helped haul the big couch. I think. only the snow was all outside. his club entourage. and we never got the stains out. Santa and Santa Helpers. They even had presents under the tree. literally. like a one specially built for an all-pro wide receiver who didn't have anything else left to spend his millions on — except coke. And Pachuco as a Salvation Army Band member. I looked over at Louie's tree which was already plugged in. As I watched the Mob once again hustling like a Danica Patrick pit crew motivated by her verbal abuse and promises of lap dances if she finally won." Clydie seemed to be more interested in preening in front of the mirror than anything else. and ornaments. You should grab that lower. My grandmother had a couch like that. Be careful. It was where Molly was setting up her techie stuff on the picnic table." yelled Patch. It was like we were inside a snow globe. the kind you jumped around in front of — and go Wii! It was a deluxe setup. "That looks heavy. A good sized one.
Now her equipment looked like it could be an upgrade for a Pentagon War Room or a video geek's wet dream. Next to the fireplace. D'Oliya set up a small table with brandy and cookies. And now she did. So he had seen them! "That's crass." said Vinnie with a leer. including one that says The Guy. She was jumping over a mogul while pouring a 64 ounce Mickey's Malt Liquor onto her chest." said Louie. I liked the one with the Eskimo girl in a min-thong bikini snowboarding. I wondered if Santa would miss it if I borrowed a cookie. Huh? "Good thinking. Then Molly did that thing I've hated since I first saw it in high school: the removal of a bra while still keeping on her torn coat. a long. The other wall was just the regular patio bar wall with promotional beer posters on it." "And we need Molly's red bra for color. I wondered if Mom's taught their daughters that trick when they taught them where to get body art that could only be seen by guys who weren't me. D'Oliya hung striped stockings on the mantle of the fireplace. I always thought that would make a good Olympic event for the Winter Games. "You never know. There was so much going on so fast." said Louie. She was the strangest young lady. . "We should mix him a nice brandy cocktail. No milk and cookies? I guess they figured the jolly old elf had already drunk enough milk to make him think he think he'd sucked off a herd of Holsteins. was a woman who knew from crass. "Don't forget the cocoa. Was that for me? In a back corner. even in the face of what I knew to be true. "It's cold up there. Pachuco dropped a big log in the fireplace. long clothes rack full of clothes like you'd see in a models dressing room for a fashion show — assuming you knew where to find a hole in the wall to peek. who.It was as if the PartyMob were constructing a four walled homey-type room without a roof. if you want to call that working. Things that should have made her blush didn't bother her." Know what? I wondered. You know. who was more domestic than I gave her credit for. Molly blushed. Molly draped the bra on Santa's cookie table. there was like a clothes rack. "And maybe some cute pink cotton undies with a nice Christmas message." said Vinnie. I kept hoping stuff like that. As she slipped it over her elbows. I assume. Maybe this was a Christmas set for a non-union music video. He's sure to see the red. covering most of the bar's patio area." said D'Oliya. My brain just works that way. The fireplace Pachuco created even had a chimney." said Pachuco. Us guys at the dive bar would sure watch it. I was spinning like a figure skater on speed. Molly used my computer to turn on her “electronic wall”. "No cocoa." said D'Oliya.
The others joined in. That's not all." piped in the big horse with the little voice. Louie toasted. "To the new Yule. "C'mon. People are so untrusting these days." warned Molly "Good job."Don't even think about it. you wankers." said Pachuco." cried D'Oliya. We've got a lot to do yet. Hallelujah! Have a Shooter! Hallelujah! Have a Shooter! Hallelujah! Molly looked around and yelled. "Yeah. Vinnie started a song to tune of Hallelujah Chorus. "We're running out of time here." "Back to work!" yelled Pachuco. Vinnie told me they were going to record the long version of "Have A Shooter" with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as soon as they were convinced to add drinking songs to their repertoire. "Break time. Hallelujah! Have a Shooter! Hallelujah! Have a Shooter! Hallelujah! They worked while they sang and drank. borachone." He downed his cognac. King of Beers! Have a backup! Have a backup! The King of Beers! ." cried Vinnie. who seemed to be ramrodding the job for her. The others quickly followed suit.
uh. she had nothing on top. While my view was mostly blocked by the coats. You know sometimes I wish that every second thought I had wasn't sophomorically perverted. And into our Christmas outfits. Louie handed me a refilled brandy snifter. I also doubt Norman drew a homey living room living inside a reverse snow globe. Well. or a Clydesdale. really.Have A Shooter! Have A Shooter! I heard a whoosh and turned to see the Yule log burning like a super nova. "You need to get ready. unreal. It was like a homey Norman Rockwell living room. And we will swill for ever and ever And we will swill for ever and ever. filthy things. But it was. looking at his iMust thing that he and Molly were always looking at. Clydesdeer with fake antlers and a fake red nose that blinked — who loved her own reflection in the mirror." Molly gave me smile and a nod. torn-up. "Warm back here. not exactly nothing. She started to take off her coat. except for Molly who had nothing else on top but Molly. I thought. But not this time. "Yeah. "It sure is. We all do. "It is approaching the time we should be getting changed into our battle gear." Sergeant Pachuco yelled in his DI voice. "I really need a little maid uniform to do this right. it looked like Molly and D'Oliya were taking off their clothes." said Molly checking her handheld thing. If I keep saying "unreal" you'll probably get pissed off and go over to YouTube to catch the latest video of Japanese girls in pajamas playing with kittens who are jamming on the bongos. "Hustle it up. Still. reached back like she was unbuttoning her ripped dress. It was really warm in the faux room." said Louie the Leader. and Rockwell never drew a high tech video wall. "Yeah. I could see now why Pachuco had called it Operation Rockwell. Hell of an unreal fireplace. The fireplace was putting out heat like a well. except that there were no real walls or ceiling." I commented. But now I was getting warm. Pachuco's fire was hot. I definitely think we should get out of these wet. hot. but stopped when she became aware of me becoming aware that underneath it. D'Oliya rearranged the brandy and cookies table more to her liking. hot and pretty soon it started to get warm. Everybody was getting warm and removing their coats. really extremely hot fireplace. . I think NRock would have approved. I'll go back to WTF." D'Oliya. T-55. So I won't keep saying it." Their work was…uh… working. Well. I mean. although it looked like they were already hustling up their hustling. and felt the heat blast off it like I was leaning over the top of it. even though I was ten feet away. It had been freezing before the reverse snow globe force field thingie went up. The two girls disappeared behind the coat rack.
we gotta turn this around. I didn't care because D'Oliya emerged from behind the coat rack wearing skimpy little Santa's Helper costume. I glanced at my three drinking buddies. it was like. Doll. Even Clydie was peeping them. ." the sexiest Christmas song ever. with emphasis on little. was she! I was. "Saturn was the Roman god of the harvest. Nothing would surprise me on this night. doing a little runway number. but while Louie's persona scared me more." she said. "Holy-dark-days. even before Christ was born?” At that moment. right Louie?” said D’Oliya. too. so he had to get the Sun god to help. Louie asked. I thought it required a closer look. Or maybe she was arranging them so they would. Boy. So I looked. The Sun god liked to party" said Louie as he moved behind the coat rack. one that looked like she must have bought in the Village Bondage Boutique. Hard to tell. Yes. As the days got shorter. as she arranged her top to make sure her breasts weren't popping out. “Did you know the Romans had a Christmas. Glimpses of pink and café au lait made me pretty sure they were indeed cleaning each other up with handiwipes and changing clothes. you could call what D'Oliya was dressed in a Santa's Little Helper outfit. Pachuco was happily humming "Santa. They were as much low class peepers as me. "So they had a really wild festival dedicated to the gods." "It was Celtic festival." "Like a Roman orgy. because they couldn't take their eyes off what was going on behind the coat rack either. too — as much as I can be without Viagral assistance. Saturnalia was like a festival around the winter solstice where the Romans commemorated the dedication of the temple of the god Saturn. That wouldn't surprise me.I noticed that I wasn't the only one of us looking back there. emerging from the 'dressing room' in a cute little Santa's Helper outfit. From an appropriate distance that would not motivate Pachuco to reach for his weed-wacker." "It was a Roman orgy!" shouted Louie from behind the coat rack. "I think I'm ready. but Saturn needed help to make sure the summer would come again. Maybe she was a cross-dressing inter-species lesbian. She looked as delicious as a big striped candy cane to a four-year old Patton Lee. “It was called a Saturnalia." said Molly. Baby. the zoot-suiter's weed-wacker put me in the category of danger of soiled pants. He was a jealous guy. assuming Santa needed help demonstrating his S&M toys for really bad little boys and girls. “That’s right. At least I thought so at the time. Louie was too.
Here Comes The Sun. Gomer Pile used to say Surprise.” “The Christians ripped off Saturnalia from our ancestors and renamed it. and anything else a whole series of Popes could rip off.” added Louie. “Like they ripped off the Druids and mistletoe. "To the regular Joe Winedrinker in the street. “My mom was a Druid and I did a paper on them as an undergrad. Newark and Las Vegas. . back in the day." said Pachuco. They were so cool! I think they knew all about string theory.” said little Vinnie. yeah. Back in the day. Christmas was still the Party To Bring Back The Sun." The PartyMob started singing a song. As my childhood role model. back in the day. Sicily.” added Molly.3. It was an original rap. Surprise! Double surprise. they didn't rip off the Beatles. surprise.4 Santa-tized "Then Pope Julius The Killjoy stole the idea and mixed it all up with the Solstice and Norse Yule. It looked like it should have a label inside that read “Cosa Nostra Tailors. Back in the day. it started on the shortest day. yeah. “Then they religiousized it. even then. it was a natural holiday. and the Greek god Mithras.” "Ruined it. emerging to reveal a red pinstriped suit like Santa would wear if he were a made guy.
For us and all of ya. They’d feast with mead and beer." smirked Vinnie." "Tied up in the church pews. dreaming of garden gnomes. Pachuco said. brutish British Parliament outlawed Christmas — just because Londoners had a bit of fun. We’re baking it back. "Absolutely. Cromwell's Parliament of 1646. We’re taking it back. they really outlawed Christmas! . Into Bacchanalia "It was better than a week long bachelor party during Mardi Gras. the night was long. To start a new year. who looked very military after having donned what looked like a Salvation Army uniform. somewhere along the way Vinnie had changed from his ragged bloody tux into a fresh tux that looked exactly like his other Frank Sinatra tux." "Just cause it got a little sexy." "In the streets. Patch also carried a big brass tuba. "Not at all kosher!" "They really outlawed Christmas?" I asked. D'Oliya chimed in. "Then the prudish. I supposed. We’re shaking it back. We’re making it back.” finished Pachuco. and everyone partied strong To bring back the sun.The sun was low." "In the alleys. wondering if I should believe what these wackjobs were telling me. assuming their style manual allowed zoot suits." "Up against the statues." "Doing the statues. BTW. Hi-Tone was indignant.
"That Cromwell. borachone?" D’Oliya added. Maybe it was righteous. Every little piece. and bugout for the dugout. yeah. "Yeah!" “So we’re gonna take it back. “Excuse me. something scarce…like my brain cells? . We’re bringing it back to 1646. Like say AMF. "Everything." said Pachuco. "All of it. like we are now. into Bacchanalia. I went over to my laptop which was sitting in the middle of Molly's lightshow control board. We’re backing it back. And everyone felt so fine." While they started to rap again. seersucker jacket. Maybe this taking it back thing was… "I think that's something worth risking our lives for. Back in the day. If these Holiday Liberators really intended to take back Christmas for religious reasons and because it was stolen from their ancestors. "Weren't you listening. At Solstice time. back in the day. We’re taking it back." said Louie. Maybe it was at least as righteous as the wars the U. "Self-righteous Puritans!" muttered D'Oliya. government kept getting us into. We’re getting on track. The Yule log burned to mirror the sun." raged Louis. maybe they had a point. like why should the English of 1645 have had all the fun?" Gun-Molly said. Maybe it was as righteous as tv Preachers who guilt-tripped poor people to send money to support God's work and maybe a couple of mansions with chapels. I looked it up on Wikipedia.” I said cleverly while subtly picking up my trashbag overcoat. and my old computer bag. Hit the road. Maybe it was payback. I mean really get away. Damn if they weren't right. "It came to me. Make myself scarcer than." added Pachuco. "The sun?" I asked stupidly. I gotta use the facilities. it was a natural holiday. We’re shaking it back. yeah. I stopped at Molly's table before I went in. Maybe this whole thing was legit. for us and all of ya. he created the first Christmas outlaws outta normal folks following their religious upbringing. I was figuring I’d better get the hell away from the PartyMob.I wondered if I could quickly look it up on Wikipedia without pissing them off. "Outlaws. We’re going’ all out. sounding to me like a guy who wanted a water boy to help him pass out the grape Kool-Aid. it started on the shortest day. you lost your mind. And the mistletoe was hung.S. Like escape. Back in the day. Jackoff. We’re tearing it loose. into a whole new mix. uh. back in the day.” said Louie. We’re making it back.
Their leader. Why were they still pretending? They knew I knew. I gotta go. I use the ladies room which isn’t half as gross. I programmed it for my Christmas light show. maybe half as gross. You know there's low-lives around here who would steal your knees and try to sell them over at the Catholic Church. you know. so I don’t lose it.” I can’t argue with that. Bad neighborhood. Louie stood between me and the door back into the bar. to old folks who have trouble kneeling. “Well. Unless Pachuco carved a portapottie out of a snowdrift. Inside. fingering the lapels of his Salvation Army uniform.” I can’t imagine how my current situation could inspire a Christmas song. No offense. I extemporized. I didn’t want to tell them that like all the Rudy's regulars. Picking up my Mac. Okay. “I’d like to keep using your computer. Nothing personal. It’s disgusting. and I didn't notice. I mean low-lives other than me. “You don’t want to use that men’s room in there." Molly gave me a look that warmed me to the cockles of my whatever cockles are attached to.“You need to take your computer to take a whizz?” wondered the tall ex-Marine.” So that's what she was pretending all her equipment was for. but it seemed to. “I take it everywhere. if I could. . But what did I know? I didn't know.
who probably died before he mother was born. . but while Louie sang. Sometimes when you party. this time to tune of "Go Tell It On The Mountain" with a sound like a Salvation Army Band with Pachuco rocking on the tuba in his Salvation Army Band outfit. I couldn’t believe my eyes. that gorgeous Amazonian D’Oliya and that little twerp Vinnie were doing a Fred & Ginger in the middle of their prefab Christmas set. And it’s too long to wait.5 Don't Whizz Into The Fountain They broke into another parody.3. Molly stood over an upright piano like she was Jerry Lee Lewis. Go by the dumpster in the alley. And there’s line of goers. Your bladder says it’s getting late. When you just gotta go. Don’t whizz into the fountain. Don’t whizz into the fountain.
spin him. "They could qualify for Dancing With The Doms and Subs. Everybody there was watchin’ Outta the window. "What?" I said. Smiling in the ecstasy of pain. and then you find out it's the truth. This happens to me a lot. Under the old street light. I really did. Vinnie was on his knees and D'Oliya was snapping her whip at him." “I really gotta go. and twirl him all from the leash attached to his red Christmassy dog collar. "You know. It made me shrivel up. I looked closer. ballroom dancing was about as inappropriate as you can get considering the lyrics of "Don't Whizz Into The Fountain. the new show on MTV right after Snookie's DP Tour. D’Oliya seemed to be doing all the lifting and Velvet Vinnie was swirling thru the air like a ballet dancing midget." "Huh" I commented brilliantly. so I couldn't have whizzed into it." I guess it was preferable to actually demonstrating the lyrics. whatta sight! They saw what you were doin’. even if I wanted to. and before Pimp my Mama. She lifted him with her hand between his legs. It's the dimension where Dick Cheney is President and Waterboarding is America's National Sport. . I thought this Dom Dance Number was the first time I'd seen the negative little twerp smiling. still not believing I was taking to a cross-dressing horse. It was amazing that she could throw him around. Clydie commented.IMHO. "Not on your string. They were still singing about not whizzing into the fountain. Suddenly. There wasn't a fountain. but Vinnie seemed to like it. which I admit I was tempted to do. The squeaky voice explained. You think you're bullshitting. Was I seeing correctly? Their dance number was looking more like the Masochism Tango with Vinnie in a red dog collar and D'Oliya yanking his leash.” I said again. I think it's the power of positive lying.
Molly added "The lowlife art stars he writes about are the people we're needing to start the viral campaign. "He's The Guy who's going to make us famous. we need to become LENGENDARY — in all the parallel universes. I mean the complete plan. and YouTubes.The waitress laughed and giggled. What? The Clydesdeer lifted her be-antlered head and looked at me. whatever that meant. since he's such a wackjob. "Gotta go!" They all glanced at the computer. dimensions. "Do we really need that clown? All he wants to do is drink and empty his bladder. "Borachone. "but…" Louie completed her thought." "He's exactly what we need. Before I went back into the Hell's Kitchen dive bar to deal with my personal recycling program. the joyful memories of childhood. When they finished the number." "He's a putz. For some reason they wanted both me and my computer. and we could do those parts without him. Ah. or use a Thesaurus. then all the other kids would sprint like crazy in the other direction. "If we want to complete the plan. strings. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out." "And while Paddy can't spell. ." said D'Oliya. if you can see where I'm going. Go by the dumpster in the alley. They seemed to know I didn't just want to go. Vinnie gave voice to what Pachuco and D'Oliya were both thinking. I glanced back to see the PartyMob gang huddling up in their Christmas set. I wanted to go.. punctuate. They were obviously planning something. When you just gotta go." agreed Molly." stated Molly. Don’t whizz into the fountain. Don’t whizz into the fountain. I left them to their plotting of whatever they were plotting. I wanted to get out of Dodge. he can write well enough for what we need. I repeated more loudly. I was The Guy. stores. Like no one else could see you.. It also reminded me of the times the QB would tell me to go long. Not at me. He's The Guy." "Having old Paddy at the transitions and takedown increases the improbability quotient. And no one could hear the sound. It reminded me of a bunch of ten year olds playing street football." said Pachuco." "None of you have read his blogs or seen his Public Access tv show about the underground arts and music in NYC?" asked Louie. When you took that big look round.
Louie smiled. I'm going to be the new Claus."A voice crying out in the wilderness?" asked Pachuco. "His lack of credibility means nobody will believe he's our tool." "Though art Peter. demonstrating his religious indoctrination as a juvenile delinquent." "And tougher to pull off?" "Damn straight. Patch." ." "Damn. not their Lord and Savior. That would be sacrilegious. The legend will be developed through his underground connections. And they won't have any idea they are being manipulated and programmed to carry out our message. I will build my church. and upon this rock.
What did that mean? I mean to my situation. "Can only go up from here. I hoped the other parts of the Plan would be easier. as normal as this bar normally is. Without my Mac. I could claim to be a writer and producer using Rudy's as my office. and started to pull a Red for me. Maybe I was at a nexus of improbability. I wanted to believe that the taking back of Christmas. huh?) Truth be told.3. A Great Plan that would make a great movie starring George Clooney as me. One I could not begin to answer. "Help! I'm being held prisoner by the South Park Sopranos in an Alternate Reality run by Mr. either. I realized right then I didn't have the right stuff to be a Louie L'Amour western hero. well. Not when there was a chance to get it back and get a free drink while I made my plan. and returning it to its origins was not a bad thing. She pretended to faint. as Vinnie sang before. I considered writing. No. computer bag. just to see what I could see. The computer was my only link with the reality outside Hell's Kitchen. a ribbed prophylactic I'd been carrying for seven months. With it. The first part of the Plan should be the objective. The Christmas lights were twinkling and crackling. A Plan. And no psycho Lounge Lizards. It was my only nice thing. and not some higher power trying to tell me something. (Pretty pathetic. Ed's lesbian cross-dressing cousin. whatever that meant. Okay. All pretty normal. passed the Westies and a few other Christmas Eve losers. I wanted believe Louie was a good guy who wanted to believe in Santa Claus. which it isn't often in Hell's Kitchen. On the Ninth Avenue side of the bar. The most prestigious literary part I could aspire to was to be one of the characters when L'Amour wrote. My pen was in my computer bag with my extra trashbags/winter coats. I couldn't leave my Mac. I couldn't see across the sidewalk for all the falling. Should I join the PartyMob? Should I help them? Would that help me or hurt me. my mismatched gloves. It was the proof of my claim that I was not a total derelict loser who drank beer from morning until night. now I had it made. What the fuck did I want to do? That was a tough one. I was tempted to put some graffiti on the wall above the urinal. That's what I needed. but I waved her off. the backdoor into Rudy's dive bar was apparently the backdoor to my Rudy's dive bar. Damn. The jukebox between me and the restroom was playing Prop Me Up Beside The Jukebox When I Die. I was just me. Well. and my cowboy book. Vickie was looking hot. an emergency Viagra covered in lint. . I hoped this wasn't the psychic thing I have with the jukebox. Hitting the road. and my double trashbag winter coat in the backyard. Hell. and not looking back. The customers were making bar noises — arguing about the how overpaid the Giant's quarterback was." I didn't. Not enough of the wrong stuff to the bad guy. blowing snow. my status symbol. let's think it through. I hoped it was pure coincidence. A Plan.6 Bathroom Break Thank the beer gods. I wanted to believe this whole thing was an opportunity for me. Vickie saw it. It seemed be normal inside." I considered just leaving my computer. I couldn't even see the back of the pig's head which was nine inches from the window. I had that look on my face that said so. The thing without which I could not write my blogs and tweets. I couldn't. A loser who became a winner. "The saloon was crowded. It was a brilliant plan to make a Plan. All I needed to do was think of one. A Good Plan. It was a good thing! I wanted to believe that telling their story would make me like the hero in a Louis L'Amour book. I walked toward the front window of the bar." I needed a drink.
. But while I felt high. Maybe when I became a Toon. My mind was conditioned to think No Beer = No Drink=No Reason To Live. it wasn't pint containing that golden elixir. I'd had so much hard stuff.Hell. Out back. I felt almost sober. expensive brandy in a snifter. I hadn't remembered that because. Strange. uh. my metabolism had re-metabolized and I could drink hard stuff without brain damage or projectile vomiting. I had a drink. I should be needing the wall to hold me up. cheap beer.
" joked Pachuco. "I'm ready." yelled Pachuco . like Molly had done before. Pachuco taking charge was not what the wide-bodied Mob boss in his red pin-striped suit wanted. . "Remember we just can not kill them or anybody else. it's so delightful So to take us where we want to go… They suddenly changed the song. yes!" they screamed back in unison. Yeahs. "And now is a good time for the Big Transition!" "Places.7 Gotta Get Warped "Okay. They took their places on the raised part of the backyard patio. or it could break the string. and Molly's "Hell." yelled Pachuco. "but for what?" "To take back Christmas. yes!" They were starting to act like a mob. "First we need to complete our last transitions. going all Rocky Horrorish on it. too. the young blonde physicist criminal rapper looked fine in a teeny Santa's Helper outfit." "We're going to take down Rudolph and Santa. It was almost like a stage. are you ready?" There were an assortment of Yes. Take them down tonight. "Are you all ready?" screamed Pachuco — in the manner of what I imagine was his Drill Sergeant voice. looking at her hand-held thingie." said Louie calmly.3. "Patch said." Molly warned. I thought so. Not until it is done. "Damn." screamed D'Oliya lashing out with her whip. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Well." said Molly. and comparing it to something on her big screen. Getting into it. Except for Vinnie who just shook his head sadly until D'Oliya gave it a clout. after the Fatboy has delivered his last present. Or at least. let's get psyched up. "Didn't you listen to our rap? We're taking it back. They all held up their diamonds in the air like torches. all revved up. "not even innocent bystanders?" "No one. the weather outside is frightful In our dome. The rest of the gang nodded." Damn. We're in the final stretch. They started singing their version of "Let It Snow". "Hell. guys." I mumbled.
"Don't worry. Maybe bigger a bigger deal than I thought. trying to snap back our rubber band. I might have been more impressed. Mutha Nature is fighting back. well. Had I known that each ring held a black hole in stasis to power the transition. Molly and Louie both checked their not-an-iPod." Molly told me looking up from her iMust. and didn't go singing a whole Barry Manilow parody. I might have run back into the bar screaming. "I concur. I only did a sheep once. The only change I noticed was that in the transition was that some rotten rat-bastard had drunk my drink. Actually. I mean it.Let's Do The Timewarp Again! Let's Do The Timewarp Again! Let's Do The Timewarp Again! I really was impressed with D'Oliya and Molly's pelvic thrusts. And not in any perverted way like you might expect from me. "We're back on schedule. I was really glad he stopped there. Lights flickered outside the dome. and the thunder thundered. Louie announced. but I sure didn't feel like I'd had enough. Really. Big deal. it was underwhelming. Ah. "Shit." said Louie. And it was on a bet.) For what was supposed to be an important trans-dimensional transition." replied Molly. "Looks like we made it" sang Vinnie. but iPodish Multi-Dimension GPS iMust thingies." . And I wore protection. I'd probably had enough. Vin. "We're definitely here!" I wondered where here was." "But we're okay?" asked Vinnie. Of course. I mean not like if Clydie were a cute sheep. "Our Gun-Molly has MoNat's number. Clydie did have the best one. I rarely do. (That's a joke. And why it looked so much the same as the here before here. Maybe all the blue stones did their sparkly number.
" said Pachuco." Molly reassured. She seemed like a very touchy-feely. I stuck up for myself with typical flawless logic. Maybe extra crispy. as she unconsciously rubbed up against Pachuco. but my mom didn't allow pets. I didn't.Three lightning strikes in a row made me think that maybe she did have Mother Nature's number." I actually think Molly thought we might know what that meant. ." "Like being in a car hit by lightning. but maybe it was a wrong number. "You're safe as long as you don't try to jump out of the car. licky-bitey." explained Louie. Maybe some of the others kept Faradays as kids." I have no idea why everybody suddenly looked my way. "I don't even have a car. given the power we're looking at here — like the power of the sun times a hundred. "The dome is a Faraday Cage." “You like our plan?” D’Oliya asked me." "If you do break out of the Faraday cage. was still staring at me. "Don't worry about the lightning. "All the electric charge goes to the outside. "you'll be a crispy critter. whippy-kicky kind of person. so we're safe inside. who seemed to understand Molly's tech better than the rest.
"A song?" I said with what was almost a straight face. we believe. Rudy was so freaked from doing speed-balls. yeah.” I looked over at the huge horse wearing the stupid antlers. But me and Louie Claus. The falling snow was getting very heavy As Rudy led the reindeer team that night. Everybody turned to look at the Clydesdale in drag. while starring switchblades at his boyhood buddy and once-upon-a-time lady friend.” said Pachuco. she appeared out of nowhere. “We even wrote a song about it. "What a surprise!" Rudolf got his ass kicked by a Clydesdeer.3. You can say there ain't no freaking Clydesdeer. Schlepping Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve.” Louie said to me. Clydie broke into a little soft shoe number as they all sang. "You can put a fork in that Red-Nosed showboat.8 Secret Weapon “We have a secret weapon. . She preened. The secret weapon? “Clydie Deerest." said Clydie in her gerbil voice. That he forgot to turn his nose on bright. The Clydesdeer.
” “That’ll give us time to organize.” squeaked Clydie. “Mine are so tight. given my nature. and a few lame karate moves with more ripping off clothes. as it says in our song. Louis Claus." He fortunately ran out of lyrics before finding a rhyme for want. beginning my slide to where I am tonight. and rat-trainers. I can’t wear underwear.” “And finish production of our songs and music videos. “Rudolph will have played in his last reindeer game. it flopped. No such luck. . Not that there were that many clothes to rip off with both the young ladies wearing their Santa's Little Helpers outfits. "Her other Christmas outfits are nothing except red leather Dom harnesses like something Clydie should wear. who were actually great singers. And as every winter driver should know Right of way goes to the deer with beer." dreamed the two thousand pound cross-dressing prima donna. Loud enough to irritate Pachuco. “Nobody will miss either of them for almost a year.” D’Oliya whispered loudly in my direction." I believed her. bring me what I want. Molly and D'Oliya got in each other's face. When receiving no answer. but I'm pretty sure they used the kind of words that you would use if you had a mad desire to get your mom to wash your mouth out with Lysol. “I’m thinking of changing my name to Louie Claus. Thunder rocked the dome.Pulling a sleigh of liquid cheer." suggested Vinnie.” My imagination boggled. “By Boxing Day. "Jolly Old St.” said Vinnie. “I’ve got some really hot costumes for the music videos. Also Louie. Suffice it to say. I may not have heard exactly what the ladies mumbled at each other. Wow. comedians. “We can be ready for next Christmas with a tv special. and then sang. Nick will be permanently boxed” said Molly. Naturally. Louis Claus.” "Or St. old St. she directed the rest of her comment to me. only three sizes too small for either. musicians. Also Vinnie and Molly. Dolly?" inquired Molly sweetly. I hadn’t got this much female attention in an evening since auditions for my first and only Off-Off-Off Broadway musical. I was hoping for a girl-fight with hair pulling and ripping off clothes. “When did you start wearing underwear. How the PartyMob Stole Christmas. "I could be Lady Clydie.” D'Oliya seemed to look my way as she performed a twirl and she crooned. about subway maintenance men and homeless people who lived in the tunnels.
Bigger than the Grinch. “Bugger the Grinch.9." "Google it. Not Max. Paddy. "Paddy. I found out he was." "That's ridiculous. Tolkien. "That's what you want.” said Louie." "Fiction in some dimensions. Look how long it took to create the legend of Santa out of St. "We have like a Christmas gift for you… my gift.R." I articulated." "You want me to blog your story?" Sharp." "Uh?" I wondered. or maybe J. huh? "And feature us on your little tv show. Maybe the richest writer ever. Who could invent a school called Hogwarts? What did she write before? Now she's one of the richest people in the six dimensions. "For the special. But hell."We need somebody to write the script." "He wasn't. More thunder." I did." I said while hoping it might be true.R." “It’ll be an instant classic. “Oh. well…" "Not instantly course. J." "Uh. over-dressed pimp sneaking into people's homes?" I allowed that maybe he was. St. Google it. too. no." "What do I have to do? Sell my soul?" I didn't mention I'd already sold it in high school. although I admit. the patron saint of prostitutes. Nickolas. "That's all fiction. “And his little dog. Same with J." Molly said looking straight at me. 5. Rowling. More lightning. No wonder he was so jolly.” said Pachuco. "If you work it right you could be somebody. Molly took me aside by offering me another drink. isn't our Louie and improvement on some kind of a bloated.” bragged Louie." . More shimmy and shakes.K. looking like a teary-eyed tank. Patron saint of hookers. isn't it?" "Uh. I love Max. Middle Earth really exists in a parallel universe. Nick. I think. I would have followed her anywhere.7a. "We just want you to blog our story. Rollins. Did you know that Tolkien was really a pseudonym for Bilbo Baggins — who wrote it originally as There And Back Again." "Now. you could be famous like Ishmael. maybe.K.” agreed Vinnie. what could the downside possibly be for selling the same soul twice. I mean.
” Louie confided when Molly and I stepped back into the circle around the blazing fireplace." prompted the Clydesdeer in her squeaky little voice."My in-nyc Public Access tv show?" "That's all. The fact that my first thought was not how much I could pawn it for. "This." "Nobody reads my blog or watches my show — unless they're on it or in it." I didn't really mind because nobody reads anybody's blog. She held out a man's ring. “We’re not sure what. Lightning struck again. making herself look even more jail-baity. I have something for you. I mean the lights in the dome. “but it should be something kinky." she said softly. It was the same. Above us the dome was taking more lightning hits than a swing band snare drum. "It's like the blue stones you all have?" She showed me hers — the one on the forefinger of her right hand. "A real apartment? Not an SRO? With a bathroom that's not down the hall that I have to share with druggies. foreshortening.” "I think it should be Clydiemas." All this was too good to be true.” added D’Oliya. hookers." she said. And I'll find you a decent kip. I thought. And who watches Public Access? "Louie will see that they do." she giggled. They were like Giants fans in the preseason. "No. “We’re thinking of calling Christmas something else. "No. I've done for your computer. She could see I had a bad case of St. that was something I wanted to believe in. They hadn't stopped their roll. It is a killer machine now. The follow-up expression on my face could have been clearer. blinking . not that. A double mega lightning bolt struck the dome and I looked up. "You'll be living the life of Reilly. around the corner from here. "If you agree. I looked into her green eyes. and grade school teachers?" She nodded." I admit. Vacillator's dance. A large sapphire. not me. They looked more of a good omen." "And a new computer?" That killed her smile. "to seal the deal. or whatever they call that bad omen thing. I took the ring. Ah. The Mob didn't seem to have noticed. This time there was a short blackout. And in Hell's Kitchen we know what that means. either." The expression on my face could have been clearer. demonstrates how much I hoped what she was saying was true.
and why I sat alone at a dive bar where everybody talked to everybody. "Or Merry Clydiemas. D'Oliya added." said Louie.” "It will be Clydiemas. Paddy. More thunder. 'even if Santa exists'. "Too late for anybody to file a slander lawsuit. "Or have a Dear Clydiemas. "But it will work. "I'm sorry. It won't happen. With colors. “We ain’t messing with Chanukah. In fact. we have a plan. More lightning hit the dome.” said Vinnie. Getting people to accept Louie as the new Santa won't work. A Plan? A plan? I remembered that's what I needed. "Or Happy Clydiemas. live from New York City. “Or have a Kinky Kwanza. Listening to this shit was pissing me off.” “And extend it after with the 12 days of Christmas like it used to be. "Or Fckin Festivus For The Rest Of Us. we want you to review it on your blog and feature us on your show. Louis will.” put in D’Oliya." said Molly." offered Clydie. or a cease and detest." “Santa won’t be coming no more. I said." snorted Clydie. “We’re gonna swiftboat Santa Claus." said Vinnie." offered Clydie.” admitted Pachuco. “We’re gonna back up the holidays to start on the Solstice. but it didn't seem like a big deal. "It's a song based on a blog you are going to write for us. but you're fucking delusional." It was this kind of attitude made everybody want to punch me out." said Louie. "That's impossible. We all looked up.” "Rudolph neither. Santa is Santa." offered Clydie." “We’re gonna record the it next summer and put it up on YouTube next October." "Maybe we'll just call it the Solstice. More like swirling lightning.” "More like Swift-Sleigh. "We've worked it all out." ”Only it won’t be Christmas any more." Before I could stop myself. It wasn't like stabbing lightning.” . It's not like he was replacing a player on injured reserve." added Clydie.her big fake red nose." said Vinnie." I blurted. "No. “You still be able to say Happy Holidays. “It's our cover story of why Santa Claus Ain’t Coming This Year." I did not add. but good. "even your impossibly irrational universes. I knew bar-talk when I heard it.
"I'll come as the new Claus and everybody will be singing. Even if everything they said was real. There goes my fame and fortune and a crib with a window and a bathroom. These dudes were wack. Fahoo fores dahoo dores. And I'll be the one who saved fucking Christmas!" I just shook my head.“After that nobody will care whether Santa comes or not. The lightning was coming in waves now. .” said Louie. these guys were still as braindamaged as survivalists who believed the government was building concentration camps for patriots who chewed Red Man. I looked up at the globe keeping the snow out.
no. Forget about gifts.9 Santa Claus Ain't Coming This Year They went into their performance look. "Who's been a bad little boy?" Vinnie answered in a beat-me whip-me voice. no. "Santa! He been a bad. I thought they were going to do the Grinch song Louie just mentioned. so… Santa Claus ain’t coming this year.3. Santa please say it ain't so. No-no. no!. Santa. but they fooled me again. so… Santa Claus ain’t coming this year." They sang. I’m telling you why. No-no. He had it on with Blizten. mostly to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" but with a new hook. Santa please say it ain't so. he got on it twice. don’t even try. It tells Vice who’s naughty or nice. Santa Claus got caught doing deer. no-no. too. The thunder rolled behind them. And with Donner. no-no. You’d better not hope. "at least not to town. Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. bad little boy. Vinnie snickered." He got on a list. no! Santa. Santa. Santa Claus got caught doing deer. D'Oliya asked in an overacted sing-songy voice. He did Cupid up the rump . Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. Santa.
no! Molly shouted. Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. "Claus. Santa Claus got caught doing deer. too. George Bush was elected twice. With zero marketing budget. no. So he was bad for deer ass sake. thunder storm was so constant it sounded like applause. Santa please say it ain't so. no-no. D'Oliya giggled. Maybe a whole lot of people would actually believe Santa was deer queer." Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. “Pretty sick. How could I know? How could anybody know? More people believe in UFOs that do in evolution. no! The lightning. snow. no-no. you pervert! You leave that elf alone!" Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. wondering whether it would work or not. No-no. huh?” said D'Oliya. No-no." No-no.” I replied. don’t even try. Hell.And he really liked it. Santa. "At least not to town. (And the reindeer liked it. so… Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. They bowed. . Forget about gifts. Vinnie added. if the story was picked up by cable news. “Pretty slick. no-no.) You’d better not hope. but He was born that way. no! Santa. Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. 'til it made his antler ache. I’m telling you why. he knows. Like GaGa would say He shouldn’t. Louie shouted: Oh. I still believe the Cubs will never be world champs because of the curse of the Billy Goat. no. 'til… He didn’t know what’s bad or good. no! He’s getting a nose job from Rudolph! Santa Claus ain’t coming this year. He used to watch them sleeping. Jesus started with less. (He’s been bad for reindeers' sake) You shouldn’t get pissed. "at least not to town. too. no.
and all their sapphires and the one she'd given me did the swirley-sparkly thing. "Think of something. They had settled down to a constant roar. "Anything we can do?" wondered Pachuco. Brighter flashes. letting Pachuco loose from the headlock he'd had him in. Clydie was screaming for her hair dresser. The unreality of this whole situation had got me all turned upside left and down to north. Multi-colored Aurora Borealis Jell-O. I looked up where Vinnie was looking. right?" . If we can just hang on…" Vinnie said. Molly looked worried. But the shimmer was shimmering more shimmery." snarled Molly. We can't cut and run. "We're losing containment." said Molly. Louie and Pachuco had suddenly started pushing each other like they were in a school yard. Vinnie checked out the psychedelic light show all around us. A soft smattering of snow was falling. "I don't know. We're too close. right?" "Brilliant. The dome started shaking like Jell-O. Vinnie was wailing like a banshee with hemorrhoids." ordered Louie. "We've transitioned again." "But we didn't…" started Louie. "MoNat did.There were no more big thunderous noises or sky tearing lightning strikes. The swirling Aurora Borealis outside our snow globe had increased in speed. right? Like balancing a nickel… easy if the table isn't moving." Suddenly. "Mutha!" cried Molly. Bright flashes." yelled Louie. "All we have to do is wait. "We're okay. Shiton-a-shortstop! I didn't know if my next drink was coming or Googling." replied the young physicist in an unsure voice. Was I a man dreaming I was a butterfly? Or a butterfly dreaming that the cartoon PartyMob had come from another dimension to get me out of my SRO and into an apartment with a bathroom? The aurora effect was speeding up. I could see flakes of snow coming through." Vinnie looked profoundly dubious. We're in the wrong dimension. Pachuco added. "If we can just hang on. Louie said faux confidently. now. very unexpected thing. "Just hang on. Louie turned to D'Oliya. blackout. The light show above us was like a huge reflection. "We've got to do something. Like an Aurora Borealis being flushed. there was an earthquake. Santa will come to us. He looked up at the top of the dome. This was apparently a very bad.
But maybe we've been too predictable. and then we have to make another transition. the blue stones glowed and we made another transition. Our transitions have been working perfectly. Back to where we were." There was another snap. keystrokes. She started making moves to control it. Maybe we've been thinking small. Or at least to where we can get there from there. or screen touches. "Won't MoNat bounce us back again?" "I don't know. No more switches. we're not where we should be and we're running out of time. It was now all Wii-ified. . I've got to figure out where we are." "We need to lick outside the envelope."Yeah." said D'Oliya. Molly went back to her control center which had some kind of virtual holographic screen in front of her that was constructed inside the fish tank thingie.
Why the fuck not? Pachuco wanted to know what they could do." "Yeah. MoNat is using this.10 Molly Wii-Wiis Another earthquake did another Jell-O job on the dome. while her hands did the kinda shit a weatherman does doing his virtual map thing. Our improbability quotient is rising. Try to be normal. Time to set up the lasers." "They all looked at each other. I mean. then broke out laughing." I said. the Mutha is extending it. The lights came back up. Molly tried to explain to me what was going down. like that's even possible. "Go against the flow. the PartyMob went to the Caddy. Rather than trying to pull us back. unloaded and quickly setup a damn . making it more improbable with her attacks. Molly's body gyrations were like an intense exercise dance video. Cool. And then some. More normal. Be less improbable.3. we need countermeasures to stop her." "Huh?" I said. what else could I say? Mother Nature was trying to kill us. That bitch wants to stretch our rubber band until it snaps. "She's trying to kill us. Like roadies on speed. "Okay. moonlight's burning!" yelled the ex-sergeant. As she worked. "We've had to stretch our rubber band to the end of its elasticity. changing our fray." "Oh." "Let's move it guys." grinned Pachuco. Right. Like the lights at a rock show. The quake took out our lights.
one. like they were really whirling. It is amazing what you can pile into a flying Cadillac. Clydie's nose was shinning like a red sun. whirling like. I didn't understand a lot of things. "But I definitely need it for the final transition. and unhooked from her sci-fi Wii system. "Shit. So I did too." yelled Louie. I think I had to take another piss. uh. Need to get us back in position to make the transition to do the deed. We'd transitioned again. More snow was coming in as the dome did another shimmy and shake." It sounded a little convoluted to me. Santa. our next jump and what happens after that might be the last improbable things we need. The ring on my finger was vibrating like it was in tune with the power surges of the laser show.laser light show! Clydie. And we hadn't gotten to where we were supposed to get. Maybe Mutha (did they really mean Mother Nature?) maybe. The lasers were coming from everywhere. I didn't understand why they needed my Mac or why she was unhooking it. Molly did a move like the pelvic thrust with a kick. Zzzap." started Molly." Zzzzzzzap. She just smiled and closed the cover. but if I listed them here. The dome was still there. sure had delivered the goods. "Whatever you do. Eat your heart out." My sapphire sparked and glowed. But the totem pole was back. two…" Zzzap. Molly held up her ring. ." yelled Molly. It looked like the rest of the Mob shared the feeling. Another transition. as was the Mutha of all light shows. but it couldn't compare to the Aurora Borealis electric Vandergraph-generator-thingie show hitting the outside of the dome. she heard Molly talk about realitypush back. two. "If the mini-max theory holds. I think Mutha or MoNat or whoever it was. From her control panel. and we don't get a reality push-back. uh. the flying Clydesdale cross-dresser. The others followed her lead. was winning. It felt like when you hit a baseball and crack your bat and the pain runs up your arm to your elbow. "Again. "Three. wondering what she meant. Then a big bolt slammed the dome. The Mob's inside light show was cool. this little bloggy-type-book would be longer a Congressional Budget bill. but weren't where we were before. but kept it on her control table. We were somewhere like… I don't know." she said. and projecting everywhere. Molly powered down my computer. and the lights on her tack were whirling like. and suddenly there were so many lasers and lights that Madison Square Garden techies would have been jealous. "We…. You are a 1G legend in a 5G world. Then there was another zap. don't lose your Mac or the ring!" I frowned at her. It was like dueling light shows inside and outside the dome. "Transition in three.
. They had to go now and come back at the last minute and get Santa before Mutha nature can react. We're getting close to being shoved into an electromagnetic black hole. I'm not going to let it happen again!" The flying pigs had broken through the dome in two places. We have to make another ginormous transition to stay alive. MoNat's attack had ended." screamed Louie. And the brandy bottle on Santa's table was still full. "Three. because there were the flying pigs coming through the dome. Three rail bank shot." suggested Molly. The wrong way. We can't stop MoNat. "but improbability could be in our favor. "It's time for Chuggalugga. Die dead.This place was like the flying pig dimension." "Further away?" yelled the panicked Louie "It's the wrong way. "Your megalomania is what fucked us up back in Jersey. They just stood here on the ice in Hell Froze Over — feeling sorry for themselves. "Can we get back in time?" demanded Louie. Except Louie who looked like he was losing it. you grandiose WOP. I think it's time for Chuggalugga Christmas. but any way is better than Mutha's way. two." said Patch. The fire in the fireplace still burned like a blast furnace. Maybe it was the flying pig dimension." "Maybe it's time for Chuggalugga. The next transition took us to where Hell had frozen over." I'd never seen them where they weren't happy and hopeful. . Molly told them they had to transition immediately.. The good news was while the dome was gone. Get us back there. She's too strong. okay. For the first time. MoNat was winning. Louie. Wrong foot her. Unless you want to die. "We can't go back. I felt like part of the PartyMob. We have to go with the flow. Mutha could put us into a particle accelerator if we stay. hopefully in time to catch Santa. while using his weed-wacker as a pig-wacker." yelled Louie. Yeah. Even our atoms won't survive intact." yelled Pachuco. I'll say what you're thinking — total losers. My problem right now is that we're in a dimension I haven't mapped." Zzzap. "It's not worth the risk. it wasn't blizzarding. We need to do a big dumb. And soon. The set was still intact. I was scared. I'd thought they were tougher than that. We could all die. arrogant shit. They seem to have faded. We have to go farther away and come back. They looked like total losers. "No. "Improbable. No flying pigs. he was just wailing softly and sucking his thumb. "We've got to get back to the Santa dimension. a lot like me. like an old comic book." insisted Molly. "You stupid." Louie was not buying this." Vinnie didn't have the energy to voice his complaints. Everyone was scared." responded Molly. "We've got to stick with the plan." yelled Molly. "We're going the only way we can to stay alive.
and fixed herself up with a small wireless headset mic. But that's just what we can't do. You heard Walsh. it. you pissant front-runners. Naturally. "Damn. "Get into your positions! I mean now!" Everybody set up their instruments in front of the Christmas tree. . It's time for 'Chuggalugga'. "Again?" whined he little whiner. They reprised the number they did when we arrived in Flying Pigland.Pachuco went into his gunny mode. I stayed close to her. Except Molly who stayed at her board. Get off your butts! Now! Being disappointed is natural.
Chugga-lugga-lug. caromed off a mic stand. Transition. Zzzt. Zap. Transition. Down we toss a shot of whiskey Chuggalug. They sang some more "Chugga-lugga-lug. it’s very risky. chuggalug glug glug glug Shouldn’t mix. Zzzoop. Transition. too. Zzzt. While the mics and stands arrived simultaneously. D'Oliya.3. Zzzt. Chugga-lugga-lug Chugga-lugga-lug-glug-glug-glugglugs. Transition. The Aurora had returned to outside the dome. Drink until the world gets hazy. No more orgy or orgyers. Louie's head actually won the contest because he tripped on the mic chord. Both Patch and Louie grabbed their mic stands and rushed over to her to allow her to share a mic. Chugga-lugga-lug. so… Zzzt. She started forward toward a toga wearing fat guy who looked like he was whipping a half-dressed Nubian slave. which is no where near as much fun as a wardrobe malfunction. To a place where there was a Roman orgy going on. Back to a Rudy's type backyard patio place. glug glug glug. and his head slammed into . It was then that D'Oliya had an equipment malfunction. Zoink. but in her case there was very little wardrobe to malfunct. but with T-Rex babes on the wall posters.11 Chuggalugging Again It’s Christmas. Her mic went out. Chugga-lugga Christmas It’s party time again. glug glug glug Molly then went into the rap I'd heard just after I met her. The look on Louie's face told me he was almost ready to stop singing and start orgying. Zap. It was a tie. Zap." Zoink.
It looked like the door to Rudy's. It’s Christmas. D'Oliya now had both their mics. As Pachuco rose. The storm was gone. you know. Zap. so did Louie. Transition. Zzzt. Molly was still gyrating to her light show." I think I told you before — this was my kind of song. Pachuco. Hell had unfrozen over. I hesitated at the top of the patio porch. We were no longer in an ice rink. from the ground. Not my most convincing look. Or maybe a little lower. the one where Senator Linda McMahon jumped in the middle swinging a Mike Huckabee's guitar and kicked LGBT butt. elbow or head-butt. Patch hit his old buddy with a punch that stretched his head back about three feet. Zeeek! Transition. "We need to get through this song. I think this was the most entertaining choreography I'd seen since the WWE Christmas Eve Special. Chugga-lugga Christmas It’s party time again. She stuck the mics in between them to pick up their voices. Zzzt. Zuper-Zap. Patch and Louie resumed singing. Transition. This would have been just a silly accident if Louie hadn't decided to give Pachuco a comic kick in the wallet pocket. Molly did a hands in the air thing… and Zowie Kapowie. it seemed we were bouncing back stringaphorically toward where she wanted us to be. I could both sing-along and drink along. More Buster Keaton than Jet Li. You know. who never missed a note. Louie recovered bull-rushed Patch. Zzzt. The Aurora now added a bit of lighting and thunder — making us under a thunder dome? Sorry." yelled Molly. I thought for just a nanosecond that maybe I should . the famous one featuring the mud cage match between the WWE Divas and the LGBT all-stars. When one would quite singing. Molly and I both looked back to the door behind us. In fact. kick. They were so into each other's harmonies.Pachuco's belly. which added to the backbeat." Without missing a punch. Molly's grin as she checked out her control projections. this might be my only chance to escape. and forearm shivers. I say this because Patch dropped his mic and had both hands between his legs. The dome was gone. it sent Pachuco back down. Hell frozen over. picked him up and tossed him over the head of Vinnie. she'd bop him in the head with the mic. The Door To Rudy's! I figured this was my chance to bug out… like the insect I am. Zank. right in front of the door into what I hoped was still my favorite bar in my own personal real reality. They did the "We Wish You A Beery Christmas. Still. Zap Zahoodie. She had great timing. As was the aurora. Zap. She watched as I sneakily grabbed my computer and tried to look innocent. "Don't stop singing. again. Another transition. Transition. Zzzt. grabbed Pachuco's foot and heel. they didn't give me glance.
Shit. of course. but not missing a note. which is mostly the cheapest." There was a big flash behind me as my ring went Zzzzt. Hit your best friend with a snare drum. Partying is good. Well. maybe. Then as I chanted "There's no place like Rudy's. I just knew I had to go. right? I mean that's what I do everyday. There's no place like Rudy's. . I took a last look back as they were all now in the melee acting like it was a pillow fight. Listen to the music. Sometimes I'm not so good at decisions except to what beer to order. or rat me out to her gang. maybe hoped. I thought. She didn't try to stop me. She just mouthed two words at me. Would my exit screw up their plans? Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Was it worth me staying to be a success.stay. she mouthed "come back. right. at least in my head. I didn't know. Have a few drinks. making me wish I was a lip-reader." Yeah. She didn't stop running her laser show or singing. they certainly know how to party. What was wrong with that? Molly saw me leaving. The PartyMob. Well. but she definitely had me in her sights. I quickly opened the back door into the bar. and I was through the door quicker than a New York beer burp.
I guess he had no Christmas spirit. the one with Auntie Em's farmhands that she'd always dreamed of. I heroically overcame adversity. I didn't have multiple orgasms like Dorothy did in the classic Wixard of Ox. horses in drag. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't possibly have been real drunk. I looked down the bar and was glad to see it looked scuzzy enough to be my reality. It was starting to snow more and more and more and more and more heavily as I stumbled south on 9th. even more not straight than usual. Really raging. because I only slipped and fell three times.3. It was my good old reality. with no flying caddies. I only read the Cliff Notes version. . and the blinding snow. a headwind. but I still felt really good. even when I wasn't straight. It looked a lot like the real 9th. I rushed through the bar to the front door. so whataya expect? I discovered as I flailed across 42nd Street that I couldn’t walk straight and I couldn't think straight. or mountains that weren't there yesterday. Although come to think of it. I took the time to quickly put my double trashbag winter coat over my seersucker splendiferousness. I think it was to eat his dog Buck. I stumbled out onto 9th Avenue to find myself in a raging snowstorm. or something like that. The same strings of Christmas lights that never came down. howling like six hookers getting stiffed by the Vice Chairman of the Christian Coalition. when I had stumbled out the door in a big. or did I mean when I was straight? Anyway. the ceramic Pig out in front might have given me a dirty look. Okay. I mean. with the wind blowing directly in my face. No pursuit. flying pigs. The same bunch of barflies. He didn't wave back. Of course. I trudged the six blocks down to the skeevy Holland Bar feeling like a Jack London hero — my escape being as momentous as that Gold Rusher dude who made such a big deal of lighting a fire. I waved at the Door Pig. Naaaah. The same red duct-tape decor. feeling like Dorothy coming back to Kansas and getting literature's legendary four-way. I looked back. I wouldn't either if I had to stand outside in a freaking blizzard on Christmas Eve.12 I'm Gonzo I was back home again. but I was not going back into that 'nexus of improbability'. big hurry.
Not in the same reality. I was proud of myself to be so good at rationalizing the purchase. came down and wished me a Merry Christmas. I heroically concentrated through it. I just waved and yelled "Merry Christmas. It was nowhere near as smooth as the VSOP Cognac Louie had been pouring so lavishly into giant snifters. It wasn't that big a deal. I'd often chat up to see if they'd spring for a drink. More of a WTF can't think straight. Sitting in the middle of the Holland bar was a homeless man with his head on the bar. Or the second stage which is mostly. I deserved a drink. which is about as upscale as Rudy's. I might still be able to trade cans of Beefaroni for beers. The ten spot wasn't so easy to get out. the bartender." These women were not in the same universe as Molly or D’Oliya. Steve. I hadn't used up my food stamps.13 I Couldn't Think Straight It did not feel like a one of my "Okay. What reality? What was reality? I couldn’t think straight. looking at the bar top to see if I'd put some money there. "What was I thinking un-straight about. He saw my wet ten-spot. The wet tenner got caught in one of the holes in my sock. feeling quite proud of myself for some reason that I couldn't remember. Tonight. I think I'm in a blackout. He served a peach brandy in a mostly clean double shot glass. wasn't it? After what went down tonight.. uh emergencies. I had no money until my social security check came in two weeks. At the far end were a couple of seventy-two year old hookers. . yet.3. anyway?". It took a lot of concentration because my shoes and socks were like totally wet. and smiled sarcastically. if a person can smile sarcastically. but I won't know it until tomorrow" can't think straight. it was Christmas Eve. I wondered if it had been playing already.. I mean. At the Holland Bar. as the clock approached midnight and Christmas Day. I was damn sure this situation qualified. But. named Brittany and Lady CaCa. The Holland juke was playing "The Christmas Song". I intended to order a brandy with the emergency ten I kept in my shoe for like. taking a nap.
too.or I had a psychic thing like I had with Rudy's jukebox. I could be as famous at the guy that wrote the Grinch. this was it. But. wasn't that my dream. Good thing I didn't need any more cash outta my ATM sock or I might have had overserved myself. . Ha! Have you noticed that I get a lot more good one-liners inside my head when I'm alone? It's like when my tongue gets a hold of them. whose name everybody knows. die. Ha! Could I let the PartyMob take down Santa without trying to stop it? If they did the dirty deed tonight. ? What if Molly actually liked me? No. I'd find a cold bleak empty patio? What if the Pig out in front wouldn't let me in? What if he thought he was a real doorman and wanted a Christmas tip like. Hey. Santa. "Musta bin young when she wrote that sht. And if I could do the blog.. and get them on my show. that could not be reality. punish me with her velvet whip.. My big choice. I listened to Nat King Cole singing the lyrics and wondered how Vinnie and the Partymob would have perverted it? Beer nuts roasting on an open fire? Jack Frost ripping off your pantyhose? Although. My big chance. Or evil never. Shit. it totally fucks them up. I was damn sure I wanted to be in that reality.. but I forget. it's been said many times. Evil now. well. and punish me for leaving. Tony Bennett. making me lick brandy. I wanted to look up Stringy Theory on Wikipedia." Ha! What would Christmas be like with the PartyMob in charge? Could their management be any worse than a shopping season starting before Halloween? Or than Miley Cyrus cutting Christmas duets with 50cent. but I think this was because I couldn't think straight. even in an alternate reality. Or could it? What was impossible this morning might be possible on this particular Christmas Eve in some stringy theoretical reality dimension thingie somewhere. right after getting paid to direct a Shakira video? What if I went back to Rudy’s? What if I got weed-wacked by Pachuco? Or got sent to the psycho ward because when I went back through the backdoor. Johnny Mathis. and Miley's Achy Breaky daddy? What would it be like if it were gonna be like they said — a twelve day Pagan Bacchanalia? Would that be so bad? I mean. Would I ever get another chance like this? No. One of my favorite retweets is when people who tweet out of Bartlett's Quotation: "It is never to late to be what you might have been". I think I was digressing again. So I was stuck with more whys than fi-ers. I retweet adding. I couldn’t think straight. And your little red-nosed catamite. the Holland Bar didn’t give WiFi. did I want to miss it? Like missing the Twin Towers falling down because you refused to leave your beer in the bar? Was this the chance I always fantasized about. Jeff Foxworthy. I could have my own apartment in Hell's Kitchen. Damn. it was my Big Choice… like what Molly said.. I couldn’t think straight. a real doorman? Why should you tip a ceramic pig anyway? What would he do with the money? Only waste it on slop and babes with hog breath. Ha! What if D’Oliya decided to tie me up. many ways — die. If it was possible. being a real bad guy? Be evil to the max? Helping take down the most beloved legend of all time.
why should I tip the Steve who wasn't my Steve? I tipped him anyway. I decided it didn't matter if it was really real or not.. fairy-dust thing. inhabited by young blonde virgins who looked like… What did Molly mouth at me when she saw me sneaking out? Was it really "Come back?" Did she expect me back? Did she need me to…? I had to know. however it was almost on my way to the door. I had to. I had to leave. if I wasn't in my reality. As I exited the bar. I actually I did fall off the stool. I shuddered. which I didn't. I knew another peach brandy in a double shot glass at the Holland wouldn't help. The rest of the tenner. Well. the ring Molly gave me did its fairy dust thing. so slipping onto the floor doesn't count if you get back up in like almost one continuous motion. although that might have been the tipping point. even if I had enough to pay for it... It didn't matter if I was a good guy or a bad guy. what was right? Would make a difference if the Easter Bunny was the Easter gerbil? Especially when he didn't exist in my existence? That was the central question.What was right? Yeah. because I almost fell off my stool. not just the Molly thing. lurching in the doorwise direction. Of course. I was sure it was the tipping point. Like it never happened. Maybe that improbable act would put me on a new string in stringy theory and I'd walk out the door into the Virgin Islands. A big swirly. I looked up and the octogenarian hookers were making out and Lady CaCa's hand had disappeared down Brittany's. which really only meant doing something instead of nothing. Righting myself. That space was the back booth of a dive bar. Make decisions that would alter reality? Where my decisions had an impact on the universe? Did I really need this blue ring to do any that? Couldn't I make my own space in the universe? Yes. . All of it. I could. Yes. Besides I didn't have the money for a Christmas Eve nightcap and it was running up toward midnight. Was it right? Was what right? Forget about right! Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where an old dude like me could change his destiny? Like a Western hero. and my brandy-soaked brain shrewdly calculated I could count on Louie to lay another snifter on me — of the good stuff. I had. I had to do something like I'd never done.
I'd say yes. if I'd had anywhere to go back to but the Holland or my lousy. Ho-Ho-Ho! I swung my elbows and my computer bag and pushed my way through the wall-to-wall uppies. I almost turned back. at least. It was blowing so hard. In the backyard unreality. I might have. It was almost tougher than trudging through the snow.3. like somebody offering me a free Christmas drink. Must have dropped them when the barstool tripped me. Merry Christmas. yelling "bathroom" and making loud dry heaving sounds like a wino who might be primed for projectile vomitation. I mean a big Zzzt in which the sparkly-thingie from the ring almost blinded me. and others of that ilky ilk. it was blowing in my face when I walked the other way. as Mom used to say.14 Once More Into The Breach Shit! No gloves. lonely SRO. A standing ovation. I knew if I went back in there that something would happen. But I wasn't going back into the Holland. “Molly said . only for me to find Rudy‘s bar was full of Uppie scum. metrosexuals. I think if I wasn't all wet. which for the moment. And Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Damn. the Partymob welcomed me like a hero with the disposable diapers at an incontinence convention. The Pig doorman-bouncer waved me in. I opened the back door and looked out. Louie handed me a snifter of Courvoisier. And my arm and elbow felt that tingly way that happens when you hit your elbow on something and it gets all like electrically hurty. made me think I'd made a good decision. after the fifth time I fell down. My first ever! Molly even gave me a big hug. I stood outside the door for a moment. none of them would have moved an inch to let me through. reinforcing the wisdom of my choice. I finally made the six blocks. There it was — A Norman Rockwell PartyMob Christmas — protected from the blizzardish wind and snow by the reverse-snow globe that encased them. I should go back into the Holland. I trudged back up 9th Avenue through the blizzard blowing into my face. and I'd never make it back to the PartyMob.
"I came back. Highest tech in the lowest dive. In her S&M Santa's helper outfit with her little whip. they had a number of what looked like some kind of sci-fi electron guns covering all the angles. But inside the big-ass un-snow globe that encased the Christmas set. The shingled roof seemed to overlap the living room set. On the back wall. I know. a guy who never joins anybody." "I know..” said Pachuco. besides all the songs and unlikely stuff we did on purpose as part of the plan. has happened. “Unreal. I'm not sure where you'd put it." "I did. We need a cowardly guy to be brave. But I did. When you came through that door. I turned to Molly." Okay." "That's me?" "That's you. I hoped they were video cameras. a major storm de la storm — a damn whiteout with lightning flashes shinning through in the distance." I said with a big dumb grin on my big dumb face." said D'Oliya pointing to the rooftop. we all made the last transition. and that would include the tips! It was blowing even harder now outside the dome. I’d still rather have been here with the cartoony PartyMob than sitting alone at my old reality of Rudy's. "Santa's landing strip. we need him to join us.you’d be back. I'm glad. she could make landing strip sound like something a lap dancer would do on you if you put an extra hundred in her.. or at the Holland Bar . I almost wanted to sing that "Let It Snow" song." "Please tell me what's going on?" What I really wanted to know was. You're The Guy. A hundred bucks would be like 30 pints of Rudy's Red. it was all warm and cozy.” “Everything she said would happen. think about it. "and why me?" "To manipulate the different paths in string reality." "Totally out of character. Maybe Mutha Nature didn’t like it when somebody was messing with her reality. It had to be that way for us to be here and now. Molly had projected a holographic thingie of a faux rooftop. but I didn't think so. I mean. never having a hundred to use that way. The PartyMob's MGM Musical reality must have been contagious. “Exactly." "They said you expected it. so the giant fireplace chimney went up through the roof. well." "It was totally unexpected from my end. We need that guy who does nothing but slump in a bar booth all day long.” I replied. we need a series of unintended consequences of polar opposites trying to coexist.” said D'Oliya. my SRO. "I wasn't going to come back. I’m a sucker who Molly sucked into this mess. Not like me at all. In front the new enlarged set. A smart ass who doesn't believe in anything to believe in us. She smiled at me. We need to have that selfish guy to make a sacrifice.
but the universe. Molly explained. "Understand?" asked Molly.” said D'Oliya. we will create a universal re-strung reality. "Sure. I mean. and there is still a universe. although how hopeful can you look sitting up in a coffin? "Louis Claus!" Destroy the multiple universes? Hell's Kitchen wouldn't exist. OMG. we've got it made. where we rule Christmas. who'd really miss Santa? But I'd miss me. "As long as MoNat doesn't totally break our strung-out rubber-band string and destroy 1111 dimensions in a Big-Ass Bang. Destroy everything? "If it works and we've taken down Santa. The bar manager. but all the universes with a Santa or a Santa legend!" Little Vinnie almost sounded hopeful instead of hopeless. Come on reality! Come on Mutha Nature. "Clydie the red-nosed Clydesdeer!" I'd lose my food stamps." like I understand the IRS tax code. fight back. which I could not have understood even if I paid taxes. Dandy. Molly stood at her Wii control panel with the big screen. The reward for them wasn't worth the risk to me. 1111 universes. Something had to be done. "Velvet Vinnie: Lord Of the Elves!" I'd lose my favorite booth. Did that mean destroying 1111 mes? "Mega-stars in every reality. and trying to chat up the old hookers so Lady CaCa would buy me another drink that I'd promise to pay her back for. . would that be so bad? "Ménage à trois with Jessica Rabbit and the Little Mermaid!" said the ex-sergeant. "The Nobel Prize for physics!" Oh. I thought." said Pachuco. shit-on-a-string! No more beers! Hell.sucking on an ice cube. no more me! "All Dimension Christmas Queen and Dominatrix!" Well. but never would. if there is still a universe? "The PartyMob what owns Christmas. we'll be copasetic. even if nobody else would." enthused Louie. stuck his head out of Rudy's back door. Not only our universe. She made GPS and ETA announcements to the group. “If we do not destroy everything in all the universes that contain a Santa or a Santa legend. They were talking about not only destroying this world.
Dandy screamed over the sound of the wind and snow. They were going to take down Santa. if they didn't create a new Big-Ass Bang that would cancel my food stamps. well. a short one." I thought. "Releasing the dome. "Don't do it.” “We need to do it from here. that would be good. we were back in the fury of the wind and snow. wet t-shirt." Suddenly." I felt so ashamed I refilled the snifter. But what was Plan A? Dandy looked down at little Vinnie.” Molly sotto-voiced to Louie. but my mouth was busy sipping brandy. I didn't do squat. and trying to think up how I could think up a plan to think up a plan. Louie knocked his arm down. I think I can. I made my choice. The psychotic PartyMob were actually going to do it. We need seven more minutes. "Don't agree. I don't know who I prayed to. that's all I did.. “You really shouldn’t. I would still spend all day sitting in my back booth at the dive bar. “You need to get out of this blizzard. But what was the plan? I remembered! It was Plan A." I prayed. .Molly did a gyration and yelled." he said.. I chugged the brandy like it was a cheap shot. again. "Way to go. spring break. "He could screw us all up. began mentally chanting "I think I can. tip the bartender another hundred. “Vinnie. And for all the little kids who'll get liquor minis in their Christmas stockings instead iPods full of game apps. Medicaid. "You'll never make it through the crowds. please go in and pick up another bottle or two of Courvoisier to keep our throats warm. But only one more song. Tell 'em to shove it. Nada. I mean. "We need to do it.. "Ahhhhhhhhh!" I thought. I had do something drastic.. Maybe Dandy would 86 us from the backyard and force us back into the original string! I mean. I guess.” Pachuco pulled out his Weed-wacker and." Dandy took a handful of Benjamins went back in." Good old Dandy. Maybe he could screw it all up. drinking Rudy's Red. Oh. Save us and I'll never run a tab and forget to pay it. and steal Christmas. for myself..I can’t allow… Insurance doesn't cover customers freezing in the patio. I couldn't let it happen. I mustered all my strength. There must really be a Beer God for beeraholics in some dimension. I had a plan to have a plan. It makes me sad for the human race. And for Santa. I'll get the drinks for you. wouldn't it.” I almost mentioned that it wouldn't get him a landing strip. So please come back in — as long as you don’t sing. I mean. Then. The one man party of "no. Commerce and greed and human nature triumphs again.” shouted Louie. Dandy. Nothing.." Then I. if they ever let me run a tab again. and Googling coed. holding out a stack of c-notes. And in particular. Molly said. dug deep into the well of my soul. but I prayed." "Can't do it. and Social Security permanently. “Just a one more song and we’ll be right in. better than risking the destruction of 1111 universes? But even if I would still exist. Dandy. now!" Louie shouted loudly.
" yelled Pachuco. “Rudolf. "We're gonna die. “The Legend Begins!” she squeaked." screamed Vinnie.” yelled Louie. Molly said. "Yeah. "Red Suit ETA two minutes!" yelled Molly. Clydie Deerest went into a clumsy Clydesdale gallop and then took off into the air." Another lightning bolt hit nearer to Pachuco ." I mumbled. "Clydie. she could probably use her hooves to play piano.” That big clunky horse could really fly. "Guidance system on. "but I'd do her. Hell. "I don’t think the lady is interested. “It’s all the Muthas and MoNats in all the other strings of reality trying to snap us back to the equilibrium point.A lightning bolt hit explosively within ten yards of us. in some other stringy reality universe dimension. you’re on." Vinnie screamed over the roaring wind. I knew it. cowering in his coffin." yelled D'Oliya hitting a switch on the Clydesdeer's harness. Like artillery strikes homing in closer and closer. . Another hit Pachuco's tuba." "Mutha Nature is a bitch. here I come.
or else he liked it that way. a Shetland pony. and undulating madly and in what looked like positions of the Karma Sutra Twister. Unfortunately. which I found very intriguing. She did the splits. because mega-stars live for nip-slips.3. "Clydie is going the wrong way! Way the wrong way. and a cage full of randy gerbils —which goes to show just how similar our different string-realities actually are. My doing nothing was the right thing to do. She reflexively pulled her top back up. She had more moves than Joe Cocker and Mick Jagger Dancing With The Tweekers. proving to me that she'd never be a mega star. I had saved Santa and all the stringy universes by just being me. catching former Mayor Rudy Giuliani getting it on with two hookers. none of her gyrations seemed to work to get Clydie back on the right path. .” She tried spinning around to get Clydie on the right track. Ann Coulter wearing a strap-on.15 Plan A — Launch The Clydesdeer Missile Molly was guiding Clydie by waving her arms and legs and wiggling her other good stuff.” she said when her top of her tiny red outfit made a slight slip. It didn't work. I knew it. “Damn. Molly started waving. Her eyes never the left the Clydie hologram. She did the Frug." yelled Molly. She did the Robocop. "Clydie is down! Clydie is down!" What would happen now that their plan hadn't worked? "We're gonna take it in the ass. "We've lost her. Man. The Clydesdeer crashed right thru the window. Yeaaaaa! I thought. Anyway. Clydie was off course. Our physicist was in a panic. She did the worm. was I great or what? We’d find out later that Clydie mistook a red light on a third floor whore house on 11th Avenue for Rudolph’s nose." Vinnie was not a believer. her moves on the Wii controller must have had unintended consequences.
"I’ve planned for Reality fighting back." "What's Contingency Plan B?" I wanted to know. The Santa trap? . "It's the Santa Trap!" yelled Molly. Go to Contingency Plan B.
3." yelled Molly over the blizzard winds. screamed D'Oliya. Then a warm-gelled pin-spot hit the brandy and cookie table next to fireplace. "Pull them off. "He'll never stop." countered Molly. I've got a pair in my bag. Suddenly.16 Plan B — The Santa Trap Gun-Molly did a break-dance head spin. "He's coming for my Brandy Santalexander" claimed Louie. Apparently Patch was not giving up on saving the day by pulling off Molly's Merry . "He's probably gay." cried Vinnie.” "And my best red bra." yelled Pachuco rushing up the stairs toward her. We're doooomed. I could barely see Molly karate kick Pachuco in the head. "We didn't put out Molly's 'Merry Christmas' panties!" panicked Vinnie." shouted Vinnie. It was beautiful. "Too late now. "We shoulda put out a pair of red leather chaps!" "Damn. D'Oliya yelled. "Welcome Santa! Free Drinks for Jolly Olde Elves". Christmas lights on their faux roof came on spelling." "Get away! He couldn't read my 'Merry Christmas' message anyway. "like he was offering to diffuse a IED with his teeth." Here comes Red Suit homing in on my cookies." volunteered Pachuco bravely. "I'll help you get them off. I heard." shouted Molly. I couldn't see much of anything in the storm. what I swear to Godaddy were jingle bells ringing in the air. "I'm wearing them." shouted Molly.
"Yeah. Molly's red bra was blown up by the wind. we're doomed. I don’t know. more pissed off than whiney. PartyMob squat! Molly said. Santa would be safe." Vinnie asked. Even if it probably wouldn't be real in a Hell's Kitchen reality tomorrow when I woke up with a headache.." "If we don't nail Santa in the next two minutes thirty. after a hard day’s . Just as Rudolf's bright red nose appeared. Yet. Probably. "No plan D. I also wondered if I could drink Santa's brandy since he didn't seem to want it. They had sure caught my attention. I looked them over. I wanted to think that. And a bit sad for me. Why. “Then we’re doomed?” I wondered if Plan D should have been Dom D'Oliya and her D-cups. I mean I sorta saw him through the snowstorm. On the other hand. Santa must have had a cookie/brandy/red-bra homing device because even in the blinding snow. “Red Suit has rerouted toward 9th Avenue. Cookies.Christmas panties and adding them to the Santa Trap. that's it. It swooped up right in front of the sleigh-puller like a red warning flag. "Just shove a Christmas tree up my ass and get it over with. too. That was plan B. too. “Wait!” screamed Molly. Me and the Partymob. who had jumped out of his coffin. Rudolf and the sleigh swooped back up and were lost in the snowstorm in a Hell's Kitchen second." shouted Molly. if there was a Santa. But I told myself to quit doubting what I'd already decided was real. They didn’t even look real anymore. I was happy they didn't get Santa. Louie said. he never stops twice in the same place." "What about Plan D?" asked Louis. he couldn't have seen details of the Santa Trap on the little table next to the fireplace. I'll never have a hit record!" We all just stood there. it was real for me tonight. I don't know. Courvoisier and c-cups. Although I agreed with Pachuco that Molly's Merry Christmas panties would be a real eye catcher for the jolly olde elf. "Now. Jr.” "What's plan C?" asked Pachuco .K. even with the pin spot on it." yelled Vinnie.” They started running toward the back door. grabbed D'Oliya's whip and was scourging himself. “Maybe he wants a nightcap. I wouldn’t get Molly-coddled. checking her screens and her handheld. I was sad for them. Whatever spark they had that made them so much fun was completely gone. The cookies looked good. Tolkien. The GPS signal on my computer beeped like "You've Got Mail" but more jingle-bellyish. but I'd had a lot of beer and brandy and maybe I had hallucinated the sleigh and the red-nosed reindeer that almost landed. Naughty or nice. They were beginning to look like a bunch of old cartoon characters drawn in faded colors. I wouldn't be J. “Shit! That’s it. "That was plan C.K. Mutha Nature one.
I finally made my Big Decision. leading the others toward the bar's back door. I stayed in the backyard. It went well with the oatmeal raisin cookies.night. I took another sip. It was definitely the good stuff.” yelled D'Oliya. “Let’s move it.” cried Pachuco. . taking a big hit of Santa's brandy. I had to stop them. I rushed to the back door.
. Nobody wanted to go near the Kangaroo. or Charlie Sheen was beneath their dignity — or if they were afraid the shots would scare off Santa. dealers. back-to-back. and maybe I can play in the NBA if I work on my half-court dunk.3. floor-to-ceiling." said Vinnie. right. Nonetheless. crocodile skin umbrellas. The PartyMob was being held up by the Uppie mob. Not for members of the other 99%. Maybe can still do it. and Gucci purses. even with Molly's warning.17 Silent Night Bar Fight Inside the bar. For once. When your Christmas bonus is more than 162 working-class people sweat for in a year." cried Vinnie who had only advanced a few feet into the bar. It lied. the PartyMob tried pushing their way thru the Uppie mob. And stomping our feet with their Italian fuck-me pumps. “It’s just reality trying to readjust itself. New York's most famous dive bar was wall-to-wall. The arrogant Ups didn't move.. and other chi-chi. gay cowboys. who was getting on my nerves big-time. they heeded Molly's warning. you don't move out of the way. tvs. college students. "We'll never make it. Charlie Sheen with six maids a'milking. The gang punched and kicked and gouged their way inch by inch thru the crowded bar of Christmas Eve Uppie drunks who were hitting us with their designer iPad cases. but Pachuco managed to goose Miss Down Under on his way past. let alone tried. gay cowboys. I was kinda surprised the PartyMob didn't pull their guns and shoot their way out. bone-to-bum with a mix of drunken Uppies. the jukebox was playing "Silent Night". metrosexuals. sissy cocktails I'd never even heard of. belly-tobelly. scions of the Saudi Royal Family. I hoped he was right.” yelled Molly seeing the mass of bodies between the back door and the front door. It was a like being in a Brit soccer crowd after a loss to Germany. I had no idea if gunning down Uppie metrosexuals. Shooting us with pepper spray. slumming after a night of drinking Mojitos and dirty cosmopolitans. At first. a former Miss Australia with her 'roo — not to mention the Westies and the rest of Rudy's regulars who'd been there way back when we'd made our exit into the backyard alternate reality. I wondered if he wanted a ménage with her and the 'roo. “Don’t give up and don't kill anybody.” "Yeah.
we could hear jingle bells above us over the sound of wind and snow. Molly used her Tae Kwon Do to put away six or seven of them. Molly pulled her gun out of her boot. As we pushed past the slack jawed Irishmen. I thought for sure that now the guns would come out. which immediately cleared a space around him. we encountered no resistance. Vinnie was back on his feet and pissed. only the Sick Mick and the ex-Westies stood between the PartyMob and the door. The PartyMob wouldn't give up. I used the scrum as cover to kick the little pessimist in the ass. To be accurate. The ambush was set. The PartyMob had sustained only minor damage. They all formed up behind him and charged for the front door. It was not a pretty sight. As we stumbled out the front door. These hard-asses were not drunken Uppie metrosexuals or Arab princes. Where was their target? Where was Red Suit? . and he went down like a reality starlet. "We're not going to make it" yelled Vinnie." I thought in counterpoint. a bent Weedwacker. Pachuco finally turned on his Weed-wacker. Short people got no reason.. D'Oliya didn't back down from the Sick Mick. and shot the giant ceramic Pig who was the last one trying to stop us. blocked. These skull-pounders were raised in the toughest neighborhood in New York City. trying not to hit Vickie who had out her Bowie knife and was defending the backbar to the death. Molly stepped forward and delivered a karate kick that shattered the door like my ego the year I tried to ask a high school cheerleader to the prom. and some good word I can't think of now. “Ho Ho Ho!" "Shit-shit-shit. Finally. it was a major guest starring role.It was slow slogging. She got him six times in the legs. Louie was lifting people up like empty beer kegs and tossing them over the bar. This apparition seemed to stun the Westies.. which looked like it kinda stumped him. I would have if I knew what counterpoint meant. Now. unless you count D'Oliya's new look. but heavy beer breath. the death of anybody who tried to take advantage of the situation to glom onto a bottle. They took their positions on the sidewalk outside of Rudy's Bar And Nexus Of Improbability. Well. I had thought the rest of the gang was tough until I saw D'Oliya with a bar stool. The door was locked. And still winning. The little fucker was tough. They wouldn't go down easy. as da Mick and his buddies had their hands in their pocket and reaching behind them for whatever was stuck in their belt. clearing the final path up to the old Westies. Dandy was still screaming that everybody was 86'd. They fought like Tasmanian devils on PCP to win their through to the front door. She lifted the stool high over her head and damn if her breasts didn't make a cameo appearance. Like Fate was still fighting against us. Dandy was screaming that everybody was 86'd. and so on. which I had to admit had occurred to me. and some ripped clothes. The crowd of New Yorkers fought back like fat women from Long Island looking for deals at Macy's on Black Friday. He smashed them in their crotches with the leg of a broken bar stool.
"We missed him." Louie had an idea. . she will tie you up Molly'll make your day Vinnie'll be your serving elf Top shelf all the way. I thought happily. And the bj did sound even better than the drinks. A cup of Christmas cheer. says he'll buy the drinks Santa. The PartyMob realized their classic rendition wasn't working so they Jingle Bell Rock'd it. added choreography.” The whole PartyMob started singing. Kind of a weak-ass performance. Nicholas Won’t you stop down here? Join us for a little drink. Christmas Eve is over now Now it’s Christmas Day. and a Rap Break. Louie. Jolly Old St.They searched the snowy skies for the Fatman and Red-Nose. Christmas Eve is such a bitch. Both Louie and I couldn't stop myself volunteering. let’s sing him in. That wouldn't pull in anybody except drunkies like me who'd totally go bonkers for the part about Louie buying the drinks. whatcha say? D'Oliya. “If he is looking for a more welcoming place. You need a little play Stop in for a pick-me-up Maybe a bj. "He's probably looking for another bar that's more welcoming." commented the dimension's greatest pessimist. singing loudly to be heard over the snowstorm.
Pachuco in his Salvation Army outfit ringing a bell. The song. the dances." bring him down. (You can see a bit of it if you Google D'Oliya. that her performance would have had to be cut from an x-rated rap video.) IF I FORGOT TO MENTION IT. I was so relieved I started back into Rudy's. "or you'll break the string. snow dance. "Don't kill any reindeer. Get it? Like gift wrap. Vinnie mooning Santa. ordered Louie." Clydie launched herself into the sky like I launch myself at a free beer. This was Clydie's moment. jumped up on a car buried in snow in front of the Greek Bakery next door. I guess she was performing a gift rap. The ultimate Smackdeerdown! Clydie vs.18 The Santa Seduction I'd been scouring the skies for Santa and somehow I hadn't noticed that Molly had changed clothes. Rudolph for the Red-Nose. "Clydie. Clydie was bigger and stronger than all the 8 tiny reindeer combined. and all the perks. only rap. I have no idea. and commercial endorsements that went with guiding the Official Sleigh Of Christmas. songs.3. None of it was working. adulation. THIS IS NOT A TALE FOR KIDDIES! Up in the sky nothing seemed to be happening." reminded Molly. Santa. Molly's gift-wrapping. not to be upstaged by a damn physicist. Her last chance to go head-to-head. D'Oliya. Wait! Oh shit-on-a-sleigh-bell! Clydie had returned like the prodigal Clydesdeer. She was now wearing nothing but a huge red ribbon which would have been almost decent if she was standing still and there was no wind. song. She was dancing and there was wind. nip-slip. antlers-to-antlers with Rudolph. and performed dance moves so lewd. never mind. They were faster and they . Oh. Santa didn't stand a chance. especially with the whip.
“Get the hell out of here!” Or at least I meant to. Happy-happy! Joy-joy! I'd won. admit it. He yelled "I think you kiddies are naughty. He caught Santa in the eye with an iceball. I'm gonna come down and put coal in your stockings and shove them up your nasty asses. He must have finally recognized the danger. Pachuco still had a shortstop's good arm. mutha-fcking. The jolly old elf snapped the reins. and they all went down. Santa. I'd have socks without holes. Saturnalia. Watched as they celebrated their victory. Hello. Louie Claus. Welcome back. Chuggalugga Christmas. “On Dancer!” before the PartyMob swarmed over him. Hello. Party. Later. A happy ending. Noooooo! Now was my moment. not nice. Sayonara. Party. I was part of a team. sappy Christmas carols. too. I stood there and watched as they pummeled Santa. They'd fix it so I’d become famous when they became legends. we couldn't see much of the battle at that moment. we saw the video on YouTube. and got as far as yelling. right? Right? Come on. It looked like Rudolph was bravely trying to fight back when the PartyMob joined the fight by throwing snowballs at Santa and the reindeers. because he put the sleigh into a 360 x 180 with a twist-ed torque that dumped off Clydie. The PartyMob had gone on 'all in' and won big-time. An apartment with a bathroom of my own. Goodbye. to see if I had the right wrong stuff.) Clydie finally gave up on fighting fair and flopped her two thousand pound Kristie Alley body down on Comet and Cupid and Dancer and the two gay ones. I'd achieved my goal of being evil with a capital E. (Of course. isn't it? The End (of Christmas as we've known it) . Watched as Clydie pulled the Caddy around. This is a god-damned. Well. I was going to be able to hang with two hotties with the morals and modesty of mistletoe. I screamed. Or the wrong right stuff. They'd made it." The fat old idiot was landing. Party. Watched as they threw Red Suit and the Schnozz into the back. Santa finally reacted. I'd blog the PartyMob's story. As the sleigh powered through the 9th avenue snow. I'd have a winter coat that didn't say "Hefty" on it. That meant she couldn't win in a head-to-head contest. happy ending.had horn antlers and Clydie had cheapo plastic ones from Target. Watched them hobble Rudolph with strings of Christmas tree lights. I'd put them on my little show.
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