American Looking Glass: A very Special Christmas
The scariest day of my life was the Christmas I learned Santa Claus was real, the second being the day my brother told me the house was haunted. Oh, you big hotshot Academic types might disagree with me about Santa; you may say it is impossible, but that’s because you are liars and hypocrites. Like an Ostrich sticking its head underground you ignore the obvious so your sterile Ivory tower will forever remain untarnished. The rest of us, the unthinking public, we know the truth, that’s why we like reality based television, because we are in touch with reality and we do not retreat into some alternate scripted universe like Fraiser or Alf. No, we revel in truth, like the filthy man pigs we are. We can handle it. We understand it. We love it. You know that’s what Santa really is, pure unadulterated truth, regardless of your layers of lies that might shield you from your own sins, Santa sees through them and he will Judge you, just like he judged me.
I am what you might call a simple man, and by simple I mean that my greatest goal in life is to tend the rabbits, not the sharpest tool in the shed. You might ask then how do you write so eloquently, well why don’t you just use your imagination, seriously its fun. Anyway I was heading to my office were I some how maintain a management level job and get paid a regular salary. On the way to work I spotted something slightly off-kilter, on top of the roof I saw a large Rabbit with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic sight poised to shoot a dapper young man in bowler and tuxedo. I at first attributed this to my refusal to take my medicine, as it would kill Mister Bixel the friendly doom wraith, but I some how knew this was different as I lunged forward, unfortunately that was in the wrong direction. But I did manage to warn the man with a shrill feminine scream, so he to lunged, but in the proper direction. We are obviously dealing with a professional here.
The shot missed, and the white rabbit jumped into a hole in the roof I never new existed; the roof and the hole both, I am almost totally oblivious to my surroundings. The man stood up and with a somber scowl and a voice as hard as granite he whispered” Yes your late, your late for a very, very important date… with lady steel!” and with that he pulled a sword from his cane and ran towards the building in pursuit of the rabbit. I figured by this time I was already late for work and I might as well make a day of this and followed the man into the rabbit hole.
Let me tell you no matter how much ether you have taken, nothing will prepare you for what I saw, except for possibly more ether, which has always been a possibility. As I entered into the rabbit hole I looked out onto a vast Necropolis dominated by rusting iron spires and giant skeletons traversing the warped landscape. The Rabbit and man were in hot pursuit and the rabbit was making a mad dash to the great citadel that towered over the infernal landscape, and I finally felt at home. I began prancing every so slightly towards the two, the well-dressed man stopped and looked at me, I smiled. “What are you doing here?” he said. I continued to smile and responded, “ Hi, do you want to be my friend.” He seemed taken aback by my words, which where carefully chosen to elicit just that response and in clipped monotone he responded, “Yes, Yes I do. How did you know that?” I patted his hand and looked into his eyes and said “Friends just know these kind of things.”
Our touching moment was shattered as the rabbit having assembled a group of mange-ridden hoods now attempt to finish us off. What the rabbit didn’t count on was his fingers, since my new friend lost no time in cutting them off in a quick sweep as he jumped into the fray with frightening agility, that was always the scariest part of him, his agility, that and the screaming animated skull tattooed on his chest, but his agility is still quiet scary and should be the subject of a Stephan king novel, which just for filler should contain some sort of evil noun and vampires.
Soon the tide of battle was clearly against the rabbit and he fled the fray. My friend was in hot pursuit, and we cornered him in a well-lit and inviting alley, a rather pleasant change from the ordinary. He began moving towards the rabbit, who spat on him saying, “I won’t tell you shit” something of a maxim for people in his situation. George, my friend’s name, which I learned at the reunion BBQ, moved in cracking his knuckles, and then he began the interrogation in earnest. He would punch him in various pressure points yelling “tell me were he is”, and he would then give the rabbit a moment to reply before he started again, after about a minute I pulled him off the rabbit, and asked why he was doing this. He answered me in a grave tone “ This rabbit has kidnapped Santa Claus for the Red queen, what do you want me to do, tie him up in a burlap sack and beat him with chains, because that is pretty inventive…” my mind trailed off with the mention of my hero Santa Clause.
To most people Santa is just a fable to explain away presents and the smell in the chimney, to me he was more; through out college I wanted to give up but I would always look at my Santa poster and ask what he would do. Would he give up, no way in hell would he even think to let the good little Christians down. Santa would work those elves till their fingers were pulp, and whip those reindeer until every child’s whim was satisfied or the snows of the North Pole had turned red with the blood of those who had let them down. “Giving-up” was not a phrase in his vocabulary, like “fair-play” in German. Now some demented queen and a rabbit were trying to take Christendom’s finest invention, because lets face it Jesus just wasn’t that inventive, from its children, how dare they.
I turned to George, took his sword and started towards the Rabbit as a red mist clouded my vision and the last thing I remembered was saying “Its time to tend the rabbits George” in a voice that was not my own.
When I finally regained my senses George was pulling me off of the bloody unconscious rabbit yelling, “he’s already dead.” I figured it was no real loss considering endless supply of giant rabbits in the visions of the insane. I tried to dust myself off but it turns out you can’t dust off blood, but the teeth came off pretty easy. Luckily my unique style of interrogation had gotten us the answers we needed, to bad the rabbit wouldn’t live to hear about it. The Queen was holding Santa in an underground bunker, trying to get the codes for his mechanized defense grid that protected the North Pole. We knew Santa couldn’t stand it much longer, and every moment sapped just a bit more jolliness from his being. We had taken a paw from the rabbit as a pass code. A major flaw in any security system is the use of a thumbprint with out any form of further verification, just a side not for any of you security buffs.
When we finally got inside the bunker we were treated not to any terrible signs of torture and mayhem but instead to a raucous Tea party. It seems Santa, with his infinite charm and persistence was able to convince the Mad Hatter to release him in return for appearing at his tea party, and thinking escape from the bunker was impossible. He acquiesced because from his point of view you can torture Santa any time, but how often does tea time come around.
As soon as Santa caught site of George things got dirty, and as I joined in that orgy of blood and tea, that red mist descended once more. When I once again regained control of my mind I was on Santa’s sleigh flying at frenzied speeds from Wonderland. I asked what he had done; to which George responded in his usual grave tone “it was the only way to be sure,” then the sky caught fire.
A giant mushroom cloud engulfed wonderland, as Santa howled “Thermo-nuclear destruction, H-bomb, never leave home with out one; teach them to electrocute little Santa.” I was suddenly filled with newfound reverence and love for this great man and his wonderfully extreme ways, and knowing he was free once more, I slipped into a deep slumber. When I awoke it was evening and I was in my bed surrounded by sponge bob toys and I sent another prayer up to my Hero.
So you may ask why was this the scariest day of my life? Was it the terrible Nightmarish world of wonderland that I was forced to endure? Was it nearly facing death several times? Was it finding the sickening depth of my own rage? The answer is none of the above my friend. It was the fact that on that very evening I found out my brother was right about the house.
I am what you might call a simple man, and by simple I mean that my greatest goal in life is to tend the rabbits, not the sharpest tool in the shed. You might ask then how do you write so eloquently, well why don’t you just use your imagination, seriously its fun. Anyway I was heading to my office were I some how maintain a management level job and get paid a regular salary. On the way to work I spotted something slightly off-kilter, on top of the roof I saw a large Rabbit with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic sight poised to shoot a dapper young man in bowler and tuxedo. I at first attributed this to my refusal to take my medicine, as it would kill Mister Bixel the friendly doom wraith, but I some how knew this was different as I lunged forward, unfortunately that was in the wrong direction. But I did manage to warn the man with a shrill feminine scream, so he to lunged, but in the proper direction. We are obviously dealing with a professional here.
The shot missed, and the white rabbit jumped into a hole in the roof I never new existed; the roof and the hole both, I am almost totally oblivious to my surroundings. The man stood up and with a somber scowl and a voice as hard as granite he whispered” Yes your late, your late for a very, very important date… with lady steel!” and with that he pulled a sword from his cane and ran towards the building in pursuit of the rabbit. I figured by this time I was already late for work and I might as well make a day of this and followed the man into the rabbit hole.
Let me tell you no matter how much ether you have taken, nothing will prepare you for what I saw, except for possibly more ether, which has always been a possibility. As I entered into the rabbit hole I looked out onto a vast Necropolis dominated by rusting iron spires and giant skeletons traversing the warped landscape. The Rabbit and man were in hot pursuit and the rabbit was making a mad dash to the great citadel that towered over the infernal landscape, and I finally felt at home. I began prancing every so slightly towards the two, the well-dressed man stopped and looked at me, I smiled. “What are you doing here?” he said. I continued to smile and responded, “ Hi, do you want to be my friend.” He seemed taken aback by my words, which where carefully chosen to elicit just that response and in clipped monotone he responded, “Yes, Yes I do. How did you know that?” I patted his hand and looked into his eyes and said “Friends just know these kind of things.”
Our touching moment was shattered as the rabbit having assembled a group of mange-ridden hoods now attempt to finish us off. What the rabbit didn’t count on was his fingers, since my new friend lost no time in cutting them off in a quick sweep as he jumped into the fray with frightening agility, that was always the scariest part of him, his agility, that and the screaming animated skull tattooed on his chest, but his agility is still quiet scary and should be the subject of a Stephan king novel, which just for filler should contain some sort of evil noun and vampires.
Soon the tide of battle was clearly against the rabbit and he fled the fray. My friend was in hot pursuit, and we cornered him in a well-lit and inviting alley, a rather pleasant change from the ordinary. He began moving towards the rabbit, who spat on him saying, “I won’t tell you shit” something of a maxim for people in his situation. George, my friend’s name, which I learned at the reunion BBQ, moved in cracking his knuckles, and then he began the interrogation in earnest. He would punch him in various pressure points yelling “tell me were he is”, and he would then give the rabbit a moment to reply before he started again, after about a minute I pulled him off the rabbit, and asked why he was doing this. He answered me in a grave tone “ This rabbit has kidnapped Santa Claus for the Red queen, what do you want me to do, tie him up in a burlap sack and beat him with chains, because that is pretty inventive…” my mind trailed off with the mention of my hero Santa Clause.
To most people Santa is just a fable to explain away presents and the smell in the chimney, to me he was more; through out college I wanted to give up but I would always look at my Santa poster and ask what he would do. Would he give up, no way in hell would he even think to let the good little Christians down. Santa would work those elves till their fingers were pulp, and whip those reindeer until every child’s whim was satisfied or the snows of the North Pole had turned red with the blood of those who had let them down. “Giving-up” was not a phrase in his vocabulary, like “fair-play” in German. Now some demented queen and a rabbit were trying to take Christendom’s finest invention, because lets face it Jesus just wasn’t that inventive, from its children, how dare they.
I turned to George, took his sword and started towards the Rabbit as a red mist clouded my vision and the last thing I remembered was saying “Its time to tend the rabbits George” in a voice that was not my own.
When I finally regained my senses George was pulling me off of the bloody unconscious rabbit yelling, “he’s already dead.” I figured it was no real loss considering endless supply of giant rabbits in the visions of the insane. I tried to dust myself off but it turns out you can’t dust off blood, but the teeth came off pretty easy. Luckily my unique style of interrogation had gotten us the answers we needed, to bad the rabbit wouldn’t live to hear about it. The Queen was holding Santa in an underground bunker, trying to get the codes for his mechanized defense grid that protected the North Pole. We knew Santa couldn’t stand it much longer, and every moment sapped just a bit more jolliness from his being. We had taken a paw from the rabbit as a pass code. A major flaw in any security system is the use of a thumbprint with out any form of further verification, just a side not for any of you security buffs.
When we finally got inside the bunker we were treated not to any terrible signs of torture and mayhem but instead to a raucous Tea party. It seems Santa, with his infinite charm and persistence was able to convince the Mad Hatter to release him in return for appearing at his tea party, and thinking escape from the bunker was impossible. He acquiesced because from his point of view you can torture Santa any time, but how often does tea time come around.
As soon as Santa caught site of George things got dirty, and as I joined in that orgy of blood and tea, that red mist descended once more. When I once again regained control of my mind I was on Santa’s sleigh flying at frenzied speeds from Wonderland. I asked what he had done; to which George responded in his usual grave tone “it was the only way to be sure,” then the sky caught fire.
A giant mushroom cloud engulfed wonderland, as Santa howled “Thermo-nuclear destruction, H-bomb, never leave home with out one; teach them to electrocute little Santa.” I was suddenly filled with newfound reverence and love for this great man and his wonderfully extreme ways, and knowing he was free once more, I slipped into a deep slumber. When I awoke it was evening and I was in my bed surrounded by sponge bob toys and I sent another prayer up to my Hero.
So you may ask why was this the scariest day of my life? Was it the terrible Nightmarish world of wonderland that I was forced to endure? Was it nearly facing death several times? Was it finding the sickening depth of my own rage? The answer is none of the above my friend. It was the fact that on that very evening I found out my brother was right about the house.
posted by BN | 7:45 AM
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