Patton Lee Beaugus | December 23, 2010 Midnight
Plan B

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Optional: Background or Parody TBD Here Comes Santa Claus

Molly said, “It’s okay."

"We're gonna take it in the ass." Vinnie was not a believer.

"I’ve planned for reality fighting back. Go to Contingency Plan B."

D'Oliya yelled, " Here comes Santa homing in on my milk and cookies.”

"And my hot chocolate," said Vinnie.

"And my brandy" said Louis.

"We didn't put out the red thong!" panicked HiTone.

"No thong? He'll never stop. We're doooomed."

I couldn't see anything in the storm. One of these days, I'll start wearing my glasses.

Suddenly what I swear to GoDaddy was Santa's sleigh appeared out of whiteout. It swooped down over the backyard and was about to land.

Santa must have had a cookie/hot chocolate/brandy homing device because even in the blinding snow, he couldn't have seen them on the little table next to the fireplace. Although I agreed with HiTone that a red thong would be a real eye catcher for the jolly olde elf.

Just as Rudolf's nose appeared, the burning Cinzano umbrella caught the wind and swooped up right in front of the sleigh-puller. Rudolf and the sleigh swooped back up and were lost in the snowstorm in a New York second.

Molly said, “Shit! That’s it. That was plan B.”

"What's plan C?" asked HiTone.

"We don't have one."

Vinnie asked, “Then we’re screwed?”

Louie said, "Yeah. Shit. I don't know. He never stops twice in the same place."

If we don't nail Santa, we can’t even get back to our own dimension" said Molly. "Without you becoming The Claus, we can’t make our window.”

"Just shove a Christmas tree up my ass and call me a star," yelled Vinnie who had taken D'Oliya's whip and was scourging himself.

We all just stood there. Me and the Buddabings Partymob. I looked them over. Whatever spark they had that made them so much fun was completely gone. They didn’t even look real anymore. They were beginning to look like damn cartoon characters.

I was sad for them. And for me. I wouldn’t get Molly-coddled. On the other hand, Santa would be safe. If there was a Santa. Maybe I had hallucinated the sleigh and the red-nosed reindeer that almost landed. Christmas would be safe, too. That was what was important, wasn’t it? Or did it matter at all?

The GPS signal on my computer beeped.

“Wait!” screamed Molly, “Red Suit’s headed for 9th Avenue. Why, I don’t know.”

I started running toward the back door. “Maybe he wants a nightcap, after a hard day’s night.”

“Let’s move it,” cried Louie, leading the others toward the bar's back door.

I got there first and held the door.

Clydie's fake antlers kept her from getting in, but the rest ran past me.

Inside it was a wall-to-wall yuppie scum, slumming after a night of drinking mohitas and comopolitans, and dirty martinis and cocktails I'd never even heard of, let along tried.

"We'll never make it," cried Vinnie.

And for once, I agreed with him.

Next: Silent Night Big Bar Fight