Patton Lee Beaugus | December 18, 2010 4:45pm
Molly jumped into a song to tune of Hallelujah Chorus. Only the PartyMob transmorfied into "Have A Shooter"
Light-fingered Louie, the PartyMob leader, must have been feeling the brandy, too. “I’m thinking of changing my name to Louie Claus.”"Or St. Louis Claus." suggested Vinnie, and then sang, "Jolly Old St. Louis Claus, bring me lotsa shit. " Then he fortunately ran out of lyrics.
“I liked it better when you were Mustache Pete,” said HiTone.
“Too old school,” replied Louie.
"We always liked our aliases," admitted HiTone, who used to be Boney Tony, a nickname that did not refer to his elongated anatomy.
"I was always Vinnie."
"Except when everybody called you "that nasty little fcking elf with the bad attitude," reminded HiTone.
"But now you're Velvet Vinnie," said D'Oliya cuddling the little guy.
I think my new drinking companions were losing it. This was no way to run a caper, I thought. Although I admit that having never caped a real caper beyond stealing candy bars from the A&P when I was nine, I'm not the greatest judge.
“By Boxing Day, old St. Nick will be permanently boxed” said HiTone, trying to change the subject. Or maybe he was too incoherent to stay on the subject.
“Boxing Day. That’s a Brit thing,” whined Molly. “Fuck the Brits.”
“Fuck Santa.”
“Fuck Rudolph,” said Clydie, the cross dressing Clydesdale. "I did."
“Nobody will miss either of them for almost a year.”
“That’ll give us time to organize.”
“And finish our songs and music videos.”
“I’ve got some really hot costumes,” D'Oliya crooned, "for the music videos."I believed her.
“Mine are so tight, I can’t wear underwear.” D’Oliya whispered loudly in my direction. Loud enough to irritate Molly, anyway. I hadn’t got this much female attention in twenty years. What was going on?
“Your other Christmas outfits are nothing but red leather Dom harnesses like something Clydie should wear,” countered Molly. “Only too small for either of you.”
My imagination boggled.
“We can be ready for next Christmas with a tv special. ‘How the PartyMob Stole Christmas’,” said Vinnie.
“It’ll be an instant classic. Bigger than the Grinch,” bragged Louie.
“Fuck the Grinch, too,” said Vinnie.
“And his little dog, too.” agreed HiTone.
“Oh, no. Not Max. I love Max,” said Molly with tears in her eyes. I thought Molly was starting to lose it more than the others.
“We’re gonna call Christmas something else,” Louie confided.
“We’re not sure what,” added D’Oliya, “but it should be something kinky.”
"I think it should be Clydiemas," said the Clydesdeer, blinking her big fake red nose.
“If we go too pagan with the name, we might get some flack-back, so we’ve got to be pc.”
“Going too pagan might even kick us into a different reality.” said Molly. “One where we’re not even real. ”
“Yeah, we gotta be subtle,” said their leader, "We don't want to end up as cartoons again."
"I do," said HiTone. "I want to do a menage a trois with Jessica Rabbit and the Little Mermaid."
The brandy was having its effect in more ways than typsifing the mob.
It seemed like inside the backyard dome, it was getting warmer, like it was almost summer. And in my imagination it began to look like summer... like we were in a bubble of unreality, I mean even more unreality than is normal for me at Rudy's after beers and brandies I'm not used to.
Louie toasted, "To the new Yules."
He downed his cognac. The others quickly followed suit.
Molly jumped into a song to tune of Hallelujah Chorus. And the others joined in.
Hallelujah!
Have a Shooter! Have a Shooter!
Hallelujah!
Have a Shooter! Have a Shooter!
And we shall drink forever and ever.
Next: Santa Claus Ain't Coming This Year
