“Are you okay?” Janice panted as she ran to her sister.
“Yes, but I need your help.”
“Anything for you, Grace. We have always been such good sisters.”
“I need an emergency.”
“No problem. I will help you with any emergency that comes up. Just tell me what to do.”
“No. Listen carefully. I need you to create an emergency.”
“Well, that’s just silly. An emergency contact helps out in an emergency. I’m your emergency contact so that I can help you in case something bad happens.”
“You’re a drama queen. Your specialty is creating emergencies.”
“O.M.G… I am not. I have been there every time you had an emergency.”
“You create emergencies rather than stop them.”
“I do not. Not, not, not, not, not. I held your hair when you got sick at the nightclub last week.”
“I got sick because you put that holistic anti-roofie serum in my drink.”
“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up. I was trying to help. You are so ungrateful. We’re sisters. I swear unless you apologize right now, I will never forgive you.” Janice headed for the door stomping as loud as possible. “I’m going to go take some of that medicine, hang around a sleazy bar, and get drunk.”
“Thank you.” Grace smiled and waved at her sister.
“You’re welcome?” Janice saluted on her way out of the house with a very efficient single finger.
Warning: Check with your parents before you read this.
Warning: Check with your parents before you read this.
“Santa Claus isn’t real,” said Johnny.
“Is too.” Janie glared at her big brother.
“He’s not, and I’m gonna announce it at supper.”
Janie’s lip started to quiver, so she stomped off to her room before Johnny saw the tears. He’s such a poopy head. She sat on the bed, her brow furrowed as she thought about revenge against big brother. Finally, an idea came to her. She would steal her big brother’s announcement.
Janie waited until Johnny was watching before approaching their mother. When his head peeked around the corner she started.
“Mom, I have something to tell you. I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”
Her mother looked into her eyes and asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m a big girl now. Santa is for little kids.”
Janie’s eyes opened wide, and Johnny’s jaw dropped as they watched their mother grow bigger. Her skin turned into a green lizard-like covering, and even her head changed as she began to resemble a Tyrannosaurus, with tendrils for arms. She grabbed the little girl and gobbled her up in one bite.
Johnny ducked back behind the wall. His body shook as the sound of the creature’s footsteps got louder. His mother called to him. “Johnny dear, are you there?”
“Hi Honey, I’m home.” Johnny’s father walked in the front door, as the creature morphed back into a human being.
Johnny ran up to his room, jumped into bed, and pulled the covers over him so that only his eyes peeked out. He heard a knock, and, soon after, the squeak of the doorknob turning. The door opened, and his mom entered the room.
“Are you all right dear?” asked his mom.
“Yyyyes.” Johnny couldn’t help but stammer.
“That’s good, because I love you, and now I have a question to ask you. It’s very important that you answer it truthfully.”
Mom sat down on the side of the bed, looked into Johnny’s eyes and asked, “Do you believe in Santa Claus?”
The big man in the red and white suit stood there with hands on hips, his voice booming out across the control room. “Ho, ho, ho– Merrrry Christmas.”
They turned from their computer stations as one, saw a genetically modified reindeer (gemodeer) throw a small grenade into the room, and scattered just as the flash bang went off. Most of the enemy were dazed. Donner and Blitzen had no problem picking them off one at a time. Down they went, knocked unconscious by the tranq darts. A few of them were quick enough to don their helmets before the explosion and returned fire.
“Dasher’s hit.” Dancer ran over and slid to his side. “It’s just his vest. He’s OK.” The tiny gemodeer scowled at the man who shot his friend, raised his gun, and fired. Three darts in the neck. The man would have a hangover until New Year’s.
More of the enemy poured in from a side door. Vixen flipped into the air, grabbed two of them with her hooves and crashed into a group. Cupid shot each one with a tiny arrow.
“Really? An arrow.” Comet chuckled as he took down two of the enemy.
Cupid just shrugged and kept shooting. The enemy was outclassed, but there were so many of them coming in now that the alarm sounded. Another tiny gemodeer pranced over, tossed a sleep grenade through the door, and slammed it shut. As the smoke poured into the adjoining room and the enemy fell asleep, he whinnied and gave his teammates a pitying look.
Two of the enemy were left so Rudolph whipped a couple of fruitcakes at them. Wide eyed Vixen asked, “Where’s your compassion?”
Rudolph said, “Hey, they were using live rounds.”
“You know what to do.” Santa directed the eight tiny gemodeer as they placed presents under the tree.
Rudolph Lit up the room for them as he said, “I hate delivering presents to the CIA.”
Santa looked at his right-hand deer. “We still have the FBI and MI-5. It’s gonna be a long night.”
The butter tarts squared off in two rows, and hurled epithets at each other. Raisin-filled attacked first, with a feint forward, and then a withdrawal. Next pecan-filled copied the move. Neither wanted to run out of their favorite filling.
The peas rolled across the table unchallenged until the cooked carrots confronted them. The peas were creaming them, and then out from behind a bowl they came, towering over the cooked vegetables.
“Run. It’s uncut carrots.” The peas scattered.
Whole parsnips joined the fray, rallying the peas. They collided with the carrots in a battle of epic proportions.
Mashed potatoes slowed the progress of the parsnips and the carrots advanced until the gravy made them slip and fall. It looked dire indeed, but then the table shuddered. Tom Turkey had joined the fray. Each step of the giant bird shook the table. The carrots attacked with a renewed vigor. The peas scattered again as they are wont to do. Parsnips flew to the left and to the right, swatted out of the way by turkey wings.
Christmas music played in the background growing louder and in the distance a shape appeared, flying toward the battle. As it approached the various food groups squinted for a better look.
“It’s a fruitcake. Every morsel for itself.” The head carrot recognized the threat and sounded the retreat.
The imposing cake slammed into the turkey knocking it back onto the serving platter. Vegetables were running everywhere. Colonel Cake smashed them one by one. The potatoes were the first to realize that they were beaten and led the vegetable retreat back to their bowls with the gravy hopping into the safe harbor of a boat.
“If you tarts don’t get back in your trays I’ll crush your raisins, and your nuts.” The cake officer watched as they scurried back to their platters.
Later the family sat down to dinner completely oblivious to the strange goings-on. That is… until little Trudy Terwilligar noticed something odd. “Hey. There’s a pea in my carrots.”
Her brother, Tommy, threw a handful of peas at her, and yelled, “Food fight.”
So, I was at a party recently. It was the first party that I had attended in a few years and I decided that I would try to mingle. It’s kinda cool. You get to meet people and listen to their stories which can be quite interesting. I recommend giving it a try next time you’re at a social event.
Eventually, my introvert side took hold and I staked out a place on the couch. Here is where I want to thank Millennials. It used to be that when you were at a party sitting by yourself you were kind of a dork. Now with a smartphone, you can just look intently at it and flip your finger up. You will look deep. So, thank you millennials everywhere for this innovative technique to avoid social disgrace. At one point, I turned to the lady beside me and asked what she was doing.
“Shazamming the music—and you?”
“Same”
The party had a social mixing game where you got a random word and someone else at the party got the same random word. OK, so it’s not completely random. There was also a question you had to ask the person and once you found out the answer, you could report back to the hosts and be entered for a prize. If you went in depth for the answer you got a bonus entry. I managed to get a bonus when I asked my counterpart not only her city of origin but also her province. She was not so fortunate and was still arguing the point as I walked away to fill out my entry.
Of course, as luck would have it, I, the most introverted person on the planet, managed to win, not once, but twice as I found out later. I was now the proud owner of a craft beer and special glass from the local liquor store. So, later I had another challenge; that of transporting a glass and a live beer on the plane. Not as hard as it sounds. Just put the beer bottle in a sealable plastic bag, use lots of padding (dirty clothes) all around your treasures, and check it in your luggage. Also, make sure to check with your airline because things change and airport security is not the place to find out that what I just told you is no longer the policy.
As with all parties, there is usually some mishap and this one was no different. A big blonde got so excited that she pooped on the floor. I suspect that it was something to do with the game prizes. There were some outrageous battles at the party as the attendees demonstrated their competitive side by walking up to complete strangers and chatting. Anyway, I guess the big blonde couldn’t contain her excitement and had to let go, right there in the kitchen. It had to be embarrassing for her and she left a short time later, but to give the hosts credit they handled it well. No one said, “Bad dog,” or anything similar.
As a testament to how people can still have goofy fun without drinking, or getting high, I would like to submit the following story about our trip home. Two of us got out at Wendy’s to buy burgers and two of us drive to Starbucks for coffee. As it turns, out Wendys’ was closed inside and only open for the drive-thru so the two people who got out for burgers started to chase the car. I was driving and was concentrating on a rant about how a car had previously been on our tail, right behind us, and wasn’t that dangerous, and so annoying too, so I didn’t see anyone running after us. I slowed down for the speed bumps and, as I found out later, they almost caught up, but when they got close, I took off again as soon as I was over the speed bump. And, wouldn’t you know it Starbucks was closed so we had to go to another Starbucks. Fortunately, there was another Starbucks in that same mall, so we drove over there with the Wendys crew behind us. Before I got the coffees, I took a washroom break and when I came out my wife, who I had just dropped off at Wendy’s, was standing there.
Now, I’m a bit of a Sci-fi nut so I immediately thought that I might be in an alternate reality and wouldn’t that be cool? I was a bit spaced out by the party, so my second thought was that I made a mistake and brought her with me. Acting cool and calm I said, “What are you doing here?” in a caring manner.
“Wendy’s is closed. Only the drive-thru is open.”
So, now that I had a Starbucks expert on my side, we ordered our coffees and went to stand over at the barista station where everyone was staring intently at their phones. I guess they were practicing for a party. The music was pretty good there so maybe they were Shazamming. The barista said, “Hello” and I replied, “Hi,” as I noticed that he was geared up to talk to the drive-thru customers.
He said, “And hello to you too sir,” in that, still friendly, manner that customer service people have when they are dealing with someone who is altered or addled in some way.
One by one the barista called the names of the phone people and one by one they popped their heads up and donned that dreamy smile that all coffee customers get when they have been rewarded for their long wait. At long last, it was our turn and when I heard my name all conversation stopped as my countenance changed and a dreamy smile overtook me. We picked up our coffees and, brave souls that we were, ventured out into the cold, and drove home.
