Patton Lee Beaugus | December 24, 2010
The big stupid looking Clydesdale with the big stupid fake antlers talked! It talked. Or maybe I’m going wacko. Have I fallen into a Nick at Night Christmas episode of Mr. Ed Meets The Sopranos?
Don’t whizz into the fountain. Go by the dumpster in the alley. Don’t whizz into the fountain, when you just gotta go.
I was thinking, as much as I could think after drinking numerous beers and brandies. I was thinking that I’d better get away from the PartyMob. I mean really get away. Like escape.
“Excuse me, I gotta use the facilities,” I said cleverly while grabbing my old Mac powerbook.
“You need to take your computer to take a whizz?” wondered HiTone, the guy with the arsenal under his coat that included a weed-wacker, an aluminum bat, and a lupo. I don’t think the tall guy trusted me. He was either smarter than he looked, or less inebriated than I'd hoped.
“I take it everywhere, so I don’t lose it. Bad neighborhood. No offense. Nothing personal.”
Molly gave me a look that warmed me to the cockles of my whatever cockles are attached to. “I’d like to use your computer again, if I could. I could plug you in over here on the table near where I've set up my Christmas light show.” So that's what all her equipment was for.
I was pretty sure "plug you in" was not a eupamism for I had in mind, but I did it, smiling at Gun Molly as I did so.
Their leader, Light-fingered Louie stood between me and the door back into the bar. “You don’t want to use that men’s room in there. It’s disgusting.”
I can’t argue with that. I didn’t want to tell them that like all the Rudy's regulars, I use the ladies room which isn’t half as gross. Okay, maybe half as gross. “Well, I gotta go. Inside. Unless you set up a porta potty I didn't notice.”
I can’t imagine how this could inspire a Christmas song, but it seemed to.
They broke into another parody, this time to tune of “Go Tell It On The Mountain” with a sound like a Salvation Army Band, and Louie taking the lead, with HiTone rocking on the tuba.
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I couldn’t believe my eyes, but the gorgeous amazon D’Oliya and that little twerp Vinnie were doing a Fred & Ginger in the middle of their prefabricated "Christmas set."
IMHO , ballroom dancing was about as inappropriate as you can get considering the lyrics of "Don't Whizz Into The Fountain." I guess it was preferable to actually demonstrating the lyrics.
D’Oliya seemed to be doing all the lifting and Velvet Vinnie was swirling thru the air like a ballet dancing midget.
“Well, I still gotta go,” I said again. And suddenly, I really did.
They were still singing about not whizzing into the fountain, but there wasn't a fountain, so I couldn't have whizzed into it, even if I wanted to.
"Gotta go," I repeated.
They all glanced at the computer. Not at me. They knew I couldn’t leave my Mac behind. It was my lifeline, my only nice thing, my claim to not being a derelict. And for some reason they wanted me there with it.
It seemed I was The Guy... whatever that meant. I wasn't sure I wanted to find out.
As I went back into the Hell's Kitchen dive bar to deal with my personal recycling program, I glanced back to see the PartyMob gang huddling up in their Christmas set. They were obviously planning something. But what? The Clydesdeer lifted her be-antlered head and looked at me.
It reminded me of a bunch of ten year olds playing street football. It also reminded me of the times the QB would tell me to go long, then all the other kids would run like crazy in the other direction. Ah, the joyful memories of childhood.
The door into Rudy's was still there. It seemed be normal inside. The Christmas lights were twinkling. The customers were making bar noises, and arguing about the '69 Mets. All pretty normal, well as normal as this bar normally is.
The jukebox between me and the restroom was playing "Prop Me Up Beside The Jukebox When I Die." If I believed in omens, I might have thought Diffie's song was trying to tell me something.
I was tempted to put some graffiti on the wall above the urinal. I considered writing, "Help! I'm being held prisoner by the South Park Sopranos in an Alternate Reality." But I didn't. My pen was in my computer bag.I also considered just leaving my computer in the backyard and hitting the road, but the computer was my only link with the world outside Hell's Kitchen. I couldn't leave it. Not when there was a chance to get it back and get a free drink while I made my plan.
I went back through Rudy's back door into the forst glade of Impossible Improbablity.
a.k.a. Rudy's transformed backyard. I noticed how like a homey Norman Rockwell living room their setup looked. Well, except that Rockwell never drew a high tech video wall, or a Clydesdale with fake antlers and a fake red nose.
Louie handed me a refilled brandy snifter.
It was really warm in the faux room. 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 play bongos.
The fireplace was putting out heat like a well, really really extremely hot fireplace.
"Warm back here," I commented.
"It sure is," said Molly.
"It's almost time" said D'Oliya, adjusting her skirt. "Maybe we should get out of these things,"
Molly gave me smile, "And into our Christmas outfits."
"Yeah," said Louie the Leader, looking at whatever pda type thing that he and Molly were always looking at. "You need to get ready,"
The two girls disappeared behind the coat rack. While my view was mostly blocked by the coats, it looked like Molly and D'Oliya were taking off their clothes.
I noticed that I wasn't the only one of us looking back there.
Glimpses of pink, made me pretty sure they were indeed changing clothes.
I glanced at my three 'drinking buddies.' They were as much low class peepers as me, because they couldn't take their eyes off what was going on behind the coat rack either.
Even Clydie was peeping them. Maybe she was a cross-dressing inter-species lesbian. That wouldn't surprise me. Nothing would surprise me on this night. At least I thought so at the time.
Next: Ye Good Olde Days & Nights
