yangfeili

Another year's gone by, and it's time once again for the yearly Twas poem. This one's a bit long (as usual), but it's ready for reading. So grab yourselves something to drink, use the bathroom if you need to, and let's jump right in, shall we?
 
 
'Twas XXI: Gone With The Wind
by
The Coop

Twas two weeks before Christmas,
and in the town hall,
one Nick Fern listened as
each man there spoke of all
that had happened in their lives
over the last two
weeks since the last time
they had all gathered there to
talk of the trials that
came with their struggle to stay
on the wagon and keep
their addiction at bay.
Pam was the councilor
for each session they'd hold,
and her group was made up
of just five men, all told.
And though the room was
warmer than the air outside,
they left their coats on,
rather than put them aside.
Nick was the newest
member of Pam's AA group.
Matt, Todd, Brad and Joel,
made up the rest of the troop.
They sat in a circle,
each on a folding chair.
Six people were present,
but seven chairs were there.
The four other men spoke of
how long it had been
since the last time they'd touched
some beer, whiskey or gin.
They spoke of bad moments
that tested their resolve.
Of avoiding events
that would surely involve
everyone around them
drinking or getting drunk.
Of how the struggle, at times,
left them in a funk.
Of the yearnings and such
that made some days so rough
when problems arose
that made sobriety tough.
With the group being small,
Nick's turn soon came about.
He stood up from his seat
and let a small sigh out.
“My name is Nick Fern,
and it's been over a year
since the last time I drank
any whiskey or beer.”
After some light applause
from the rest of the group,
“However,” Nick added,
“my will power did droop
“a bit a few days ago,
when I was alone
scrolling through Facebook while
I was on my iPhone.”
“What happened?” asked Pam
with some concern on her face.
Nick said, “A memory
I wish I could erase
“came back at me when I
wasn't expecting it.
My mood really tanked and it
made me feel like shit.”
“Is that memory really
that bad?” Pam asked him.
Nick nodded a bit with,
“Yeah, it's pretty damn grim.”
Pam then asked, “Is it something
you feel you can share?”
“No,” Nick replied. “It's not
something I want to air.”
Pam could see that Nick seemed
like he felt out of place.
“That's fine, Nick,” Pam said with
a small smile on her face.
“If it's something that hard
for you to go into,
then I think moving along
is what we will do.”
She looked about at
all of the other men there,
who looked curious over
what Nick wouldn't share.
“So... now that we're fnished
with our meeting,” Pam said,
“rather than going home,
let's have some fun instead.”
A few seconds later,
into the room strode a
man dressed in attire
for the nearing holiday.
From the red coat and pants
lined with furry white trim,
to the thick black boots and
white hair and beard on him,
the heavy-set man gave off
a very jolly air
as he smiled warmly at
the people who were there.
As he approached, he gave
his large belly a pat
and let out a “Ho ho ho!”
on top off all that.
In one hand, the man held
a full, big and red sack
that he'd slung over his
shoulder onto his back.
He looked the part as
he came up to the men, who
looked as if they didn't
know what to think or do.
Some groaned a little,
while others looked on, confused.
And others still seemed
to be a little amused
as the Santa-looking man
sat down with a grunt,
removed his fuzzy red cap
and rubbed his forehead's front.
He brought the sack around
and put it at his feet,
then looked out at the men
that he'd been brought to meet.
“Gentlemen,” Santa smiled.
“Greetings to all of you.”
He looked to Pam with,
“And Pam, hello to you too.
“I've come here tonight
to wish you all some good cheer,
and to congratulate you
for still being here.
“For fighting your demons
and trying your best to
overcome your addiction
and just make it through
“each day, one at a time
as you rebuild your lives...
not just for yourselves,
but your children and or wives.
“You've all struggled and fought,
and tonight, I'm here to
give a very special gift
to each one of you.”
Santa then leaned forward
and rested his elbows
on his knees, then opened
the sack before his toes.
“So tell me,” Santa said
as he looked to his right.
“What present is it that
you'd like to get tonight?”
The man who sat there gave
a bit of a laugh as
he held up a hand with,
“Thanks, but I think I'll pass.”
“Oh come now,” Santa scoffed.
“There must be some thing that
you lost in your battle
with your addiction, Matt.”
Matt looked to Santa with
suspicion in his eyes,
and said, “Telling you that
wouldn't be very wise.”
“Why is that?” Santa asked,
to which Matt then replied,
“Because I'm the reason
that someone I loved died.”
When the man stayed silent,
Santa patted his knee.
“It's alright, son,” he said.
“Go ahead and tell me.”
It took a few seconds,
but Matt let out a sigh
with, “My old calico cat,
who I caused to die.
“I came home drunk one night
and pulled up to my place.
I went in to my bedroom
and planted my face
“on my bed and passed out
until later that day.
When I woke up, I called
my cat to come and play.
“She always did before.
It was kind of her thing.
But this time, Casey didn't
seem to be coming.
“I got up and checked
ev'rywhere for my old cat,
but just couldn't find where
Casey was hiding at.
“I started to worry
and got dressed to go see
if somehow she'd gotten
outside because of me.
“But when I went outside,
I got to the drive way
and saw something that I
can't forget to this day.
“Casey was pinned under
the front tire of my truck.
She'd died because of me
being a dumb, drunk fuck.”
Santa could see the pain
strongly in the man's stare;
a stare that was getting
glassy as he sat there.
“Bringing back the dead is
well beyond my control,”
Santa said in a tone
that was meant to console.
“But I think I might have
something that you can take
home with you that might help
a bit with your heartache.”
Santa reached into his sack
and dug for a bit,
then pulled something out that
made Matt gasp, “Holy shit!”
In Santa's hand was
a small stuffed animal that
looked very much like
a chubby calico cat.
“This is yours,” Santa said
as he held out the toy.
Matt just stared at it with
both sadness and some joy.
He looked at the way
the white, orange and black fur
was patterned on the toy,
and said, “It looks like her.”
“This is my gift to you,”
Santa smiled as Matt took
the toy from Santa's hand
with a bewildered look.
Matt's had fully teared up
as he smiled at the toy.
“Thanks,” he croaked out.
Santa said, “You're welcome, my boy.”
From there, Santa looked to
each of the men and asked
if they would tell him of
what they'd lost in their past
thanks to the addiction
they continued to fight.
And one by one, each man there
answered him that night.
Todd lost a coin that was
a gift from his dead dad.
He'd pawned it because it
was all the cash he had
and needed to go get
his next alcohol hit.
He didn't pay them back
and they got to keep it.
Brad lost a pocket watch
he'd gotten from his son.
It was lost in a drinking
game he hadn't won.
Joel sold his wedding ring
to get booze, and his wife
found out, divorced him,
and then walked out of his life.
As each man got their turn,
Nick listened to their tales
of how their addiction
led to the biggest fails
of their lives and how it
cost them all something dear,
and gave them the regrets
they'd endured ev'ry year.
And once each man was done,
Santa reached in his sack
and pulled out something that
made each man's face go slack.
A coin that looked just like
the one that had been pawned,
the sight of which left Todd
unable to respond.
A ring that was sold and
cost Joel his lovely wife,
which he viewed as the biggest
mistake of his life.
And a watch that was gambled
away on a game;
an act that left Brad filled
with great remorse and shame.
With that, Santa said,
“I know these gifts won't undo
all the feelings of regret
that still trouble you.
“But keep them close as a way
to spur yourself on
and focus on the future
and less on what's gone.
“You can't change your pasts,
but you can make each step count
as you go forward in life
and work to surmount
“the choices and moments
that came from your mistakes.
And I believe you will.
You've all got what it takes.”
Santa then looked to Nick,
who seemed filled with unease.
“Now it's your turn, Nick,”
Santa said. “If you would, please,
“give me some insight on
what you lost on your way
to ending up here with
all of us on this day?”
Nick was quiet at first,
but then spoke with a quick,
“My drinking didn't cost
me anything, St. Nick.”
“Are you sure?” Santa asked.
“Nothing was lost with you?”
“The thing I lost,” Nick replied,
“had nothing to do
“with me getting too drunk
and screwing up my life.
I'm just here to stay clean
and prevent any strife
“before booze gets a chance
to screw up my life too.
So just skip me, please,
if it's all the same to you.”
With that, Nick left the room
as each person still there
looked a bit uneasy
as they stayed in their chair.
“I... guess that's it,” Pam said,
in a caught off-guard tone
as she looked at the time
that was shown on her phone.
“Our last meeting of this year
has come to a close.
And with that, you're all free
to head home, I suppose.
“Just remember that our next
meeting's on the fourth.”
To Santa, “Thanks for coming
down here from up north.”
“You're welcome,” Santa said
with a smile as he stood
from his seat, and added,
“I hope I did some good.”
“By the way they acted,
I'd say you did just that,”
Pam said as she gave Santa's
shoulder a firm pat.
“Thank you for coming,
and have a great holiday.”
“You too,” Santa said,
and then started on his way
out of the room he'd given
presents to the men.
But as he went through the door,
he found Nick again.
Santa stopped where he was
and looked over at Nick,
who cast him a sideways glance
that was very quick.
“You alright, son?” Santa asked.
“I will be,” Nick said,
to which Santa replied with,
“I'm about to head
“back home for the night
and take some time to unwind.
I'm still willing to listen,
if you're so inclined,
“to share what it is that
pushed you to end up here.
If you want to, I promise,
I'll lend you my ear.”
Nick said nothing for a bit,
as he closed his eyes.
“The dead can't come back,
no matter how someone tries.”
“Who died?” Santa asked.
Nick said, “Someone that I can't
picture in my damn mind.
So, unless you can grant
“the dead some kind of way
to visit with someone,
I think this conversation
is pretty much done.”
With that, Nick walked away
as Santa watched him go
out the building's doors and
into the falling snow.
Nick got to his car and
drove back to his home, where
he got changed and sat down
in his reclining chair.
With a mumbled swear word,
he got back to his feet.
“I just want to sit down,”
he grumbled. “I'm so beat.”
He got a fire going
to help warm up the place,
then got back in his chair
with some ire on his face.
He rested his head back
and let out a small sigh.
Within a few minutes,
he looked ready to cry.
The ire had faded and
was replaced with sorrow,
until tears broke free and
reflected the fire's glow.
“I hate this,” he muttered.
“This whole damn time of year.
Ev'ryone else is happy
and I'm sitting here
“trying not to cry over
who I can't recall
even a little of what
they looked like at all.”
The minutes ticked by as
Nick sat there quietly
and a few more of his tears
silently broke free.
But in time, Nick dozed off
and left the waking world
for the one his mind's eye
cruelly went and unfurled.
The roar grew louder
as ev'ry second ticked by,
so much so that he could
barely hear himself cry,
“Mommy, what's happening?!”
in a child's voice that held
great amounts of panic
in the words that were yelled.
He looked all around
at ev'rything in his sight,
with his eye level at
a six year old boy's height.
This made the noisy house
that was all around him
seem much scarier as
daylight began to dim.
The world grew darker;
like the sun was blotted out.
And a panic filled, “MOMMYYYY?!”
was what Nick did shout.
The air was filled with a sound,
not unlike a train,
and the wind whistled through
ev'ry closed window pane.
His ears began to hurt
as the air pressure grew
within the home until
the roof of the house flew
up into the air
in chucks that were big and small.
Then came a woman's voice;
one with a southern drawl.
The house began to shake,
the cacophony swelled,
and he could barely make out
what that woman yelled.
“MOVE IT, NOW!” she shouted,
and the next thing he knew,
he was pulled down a hallway
and hurried into
the bathroom where she
shouted, “GET IN THE TUB, NOW!”
over what sounded like
something'd begun to plow
through the entire house
as the sound of breaking wood
and things that were shattering
did all that they could
to drown out the world
with the loud racket they made.
And as this went on,
the light continued to fade.
But for a moment,
he saw the shape of someone,
with their face and body
blurred as ev'rything spun
wildly out of control
through the air behind them.
And as the bathroom
became chaotic mayhem,
that same woman's voice
came as daylight faded out.
“I LOVE YOU, NICK!” were her words
as she tried to shout
and be heard over all
of what was going on.
Nick let out a scream...
and then ev'rything was gone.
All of the loud noises
could no longer be heard.
The wind, the woman's voice,
and not a single bird
made even the slightest
little bit of a sound.
It was as if there was
nothing alive around.
The silence was a shock
as Nick found himself in
the middle of what had
at one point in time been
the house where he grew up.
But now it was no more.
There was no ceiling or walls.
Not even a floor.
Instead, ev'rything he'd known,
was now just debris
that seemed to stretch out
as far as his eyes could see.
But unlike before,
ev'rything was seen from a
grownup's height while his thoughts
went into disarray
as he saw the rubble
where his home used to be.
And in panic, Nick let out
a pain-filled, “MOMMYYYY!”
But the voice that rang out
wasn't that of a child.
Instead, the voice was that
of a grown man whose wild
and panicked eyes scanned
over the debris that lay
on the ground around him
as he relived the day
where all that he had known
was taken away by
a violent wind storm that
came down from the sky.
“Mom?” he called in a voice
that was filled with dismay.
“Where are you?! Answer me!
“Tell me that you're OK!”
When all that he got back
was a silent reply,
he looked to the storm clouds
and simply muttered, “Why?”
as tears built up fast
in his sorrow-laden eyes.
But sorrow was soon joined
abruptly by surprise
as Nick heard a man say,
“I can see why you had
reluctance to bring up
a memory this bad.”
Nick looked around with,
“Who the hell's out here with me?”
as his eyes looked about at
the scattered debris.
“It's just me,” came the voice,
and Nick turned back around.
He looked utterly confused
and what he then found.
Where once no one had stood,
there now was a man who
was dressed like Santa,
and who seemed familiar too.
“Aren't you the guy from the
AA meeting last night?”
Nick asked, to which Santa
replied, “That's me, alright.”
With ire, Nick demanded,
“Why the hell are you here?”
Santa looked to Nick and
saw both anger and fear
in Nick's eyes as he stood
on what had at one time
been a house, but was now
rubble covered in grime.
“What happened?” Santa asked,
his voice filled with dismay.
“Get out of my head!” Nick strained.
“Go the fuck away!”
“Please, talk to me, Nick,”
Santa said as he drew near
to where Nick stood on some rubble.
“What happened here?”
“What the hell do you think?!”
Nick shouted at the man
before he turned around
and continued to scan
what had once been a house
before the storm moved through.
“I have to find my mom.
I'm done talking to you.”
“You're mother was here?”
Santa asked as he followed
a bit behind Nick,
who walked toward the nearby road.
“Of course she was!” Nick snapped
as he pointed to where
the old bathtub still stood.
“She was standing right there.
“She grabbed me and put me
into the tub before
ev'rything was ripped apart
from ceiling to floor.”
Once he had reached the road,
Nick looked up and down it.
He saw no one about,
and uttered a hard, “Shit!
“Why's nobody coming?!
I need help to find my
mom and get her to safety,
or else she might die!”
Santa watched as Nick returned
and began to dig
through the many chunks of
his home; both small and big.
He pushed rubble aside.
Lifted up partial walls.
He dug through broken
furniture and let out calls
to his mother in hopes
of getting a reply.
At times, he looked mad.
At others, like he could cry.
Santa could do little
as he watched the man pour
over all the debris
as he kept calling for
his mother to say something
so he could find where
she was trapped and be able
to free her from there.
But the minutes ticked by
as the light of day waned,
and Nick's calls to his mother
grew more and more strained.
Santa heard how the heartache
in the man's voice grew
with each patch of rubble
he finished going through.
“Mom, please answer me!”
Nick yelled as his voice cracked while
he moved over to the next
mangled debris pile.
As Nick did so, Santa
looked about at the scene
and took in what little
around him could be seen.
Besides the rubble of what
had once been Nick's home,
the world seemed to be
encased inside of a dome
that was made up of a thick
gray fog that blocked out
ev'rything fifty feet
away, or just about.
What had to have once been
the back and the front yard,
were coated with debris
and so utterly marred
by the wind and rain from
the twister that came through.
And what grass still remained,
was all torn apart too.
At the front yard's end,
the sidewalk was quite tattered.
The street fared no better,
as it too was battered.
Chunks of concrete and asphalt
had been thrown around,
and holes in both the street
and sidewalk were abound.
Yet it all faded away
into that thick fog.
Meanwhile, Nick dug through debris
like a panicked dog.
“Nick,” Santa called out.
And when he got no reply,
Santa turned and saw how
Nick continued to try
to find the one who
he desperately searched for.
“Nick!” Santa then shouted.
“She's not here anymore!”
“Bullshit!” Nick yelled back.
“I know my mom's here somewhere.
So help me or fuck off!
Which you choose, I don't care!”
Santa stood there and watched
for a few moments more,
as Nick called out to the one
he was looking for.
Santa then went over to
where Nick stood and dug.
And without a word,
Santa gave Nick a large hug.
“LET ME GO!” Nick shouted
as he tried to get free.
“I HAVE TO FIND HER!
GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!”
“She's gone, son,” Santa said,
his voice soft and somber.
Nick replied with a frantic,
“I HAVE TO FIND HER!”
Santa kept hold of Nick
until the man grew still
and at last had a chance
to let his anguish spill
out of him in a sob
that was filled with sorrow.
And when Nick's crying had stopped,
Santa let him go.
Nick did his best to get
his emotions pushed down.
He looked embarrassed
and kept his tear-filled eyes down.
“I... I'm sorry,” Nick said
with both remorse and shame.
“I didn't mean to shout
at you and act so lame.”
“It's fine,” Santa said,
his words filled with empathy.
“I'd be in tears too if
it had happened to me.”
Nick was silent as he
awkwardly looked around
at the rubble of his home
that was on the ground.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Santa asked gently.
“Back when I asked what you'd lost,
you had said to me
“that you couldn't remember
how someone did look.
I'm guessing they're the one
that violent storm took?”
Nick took a moment,
but soon nodded in silence.
Santa said, “The pain from that
must have been immense.”
“Yeah, it was,” Nick replied
and then remained quiet
as he seemed to gather up
his thoughts for a bit.
Before long, he looked to
Santa with a pained stare.
“My mom and I lived
in the middle of nowhere.
“Some dull, little town
called Forrestville or some shit,
which made no sense since there
were no trees around it.
“But that's where we were
living until I turned six,
and then Mother Nature
played the meanest of tricks.
“It was after my birthday
that a storm came through.
I'd only been six for
a measly day or two
“before ev'rything got turned
onto its head by
a strong tornado that
dropped right out of the sky.
“The thunderstorm didn't seem
all that bad at first.
But that changed pretty quick
when the tornado burst
“out of that damn storm and
initially touched down
maybe a half mile or so
just outside of town.
“The thing quickly became
a really bad F3.
When the sirens went off,
my mom came and got me
“from where I'd been watching
it out on the front lawn.
And barely a minute later,
my mom was gone.”
“That fast?” Santa asked,
his voice filled with great dismay.
“Yeah, that fast,” Nick nodded.
“It took my mom away.
“I remember her yelling
my name as I stood
scared shitless as the storm
tore up my neighborhood.
“I can still hear her voice
and how panicked she was.
But I stood in place
like I was frozen because
“of ev'rything I
was seeing all around me.
Our house was being torn
apart, literally.
“Chunks of roof were pulled off
and the house shook like hell.
But on top of all the noise,
I heard my mom yell,
“'Get in the bath tub!'
as she put me in that thing.
The next thing I remember,
I just heard nothing.
“No wind, nothing breaking,
no yelling from my mom.
When I got out of the tub,
it looked like a bomb
“had gone off where our home
had been standing before.
But thanks to that tornado,
our home was no more.
“I called out for my mom,
but I got no answer.
So I dug through the rubble
to try and find her.
“I called and called for her,
but she never replied.
I refused to believe
that my mother had died.
“An hour later, some people
showed up to help me,
and they got me over to
an emergency
“shelter so that I could
be checked for injuries.
The whole time I was there
I just begged them to please
“find my mom and to make sure
that she was OK.
For nearly a week,
I had no choice but to stay
“at the shelter 'till
the police came and told me
that they couldn't even find
my mother's body.
“They all searched for days
and several miles around.
But despite all of that,
no trace of her was found.
“Ev'rything in our home
was completely destroyed.
And from that moment on,
my life became devoid
“of people who truly
tried to take care of me.
I just bounced from one
nameless foster family
“to another for years
until I turned eighteen.
By that time, I'd become
a drunk prick who was mean
“and pretty much hammered
twenty four hours a day.
And for the next twenty years,
that how it would stay.
“I was angry and hurt.
I had not one thing to
remind me of my mom
as I tried to work through
“all the shit that had happened
to me on that day.
But instead of getting help,
I kept folks at bay.
“I shoved ev'ryone off,
being the prick I was.
I mean, I was ten
when I got my first booze buzz,”
Nick said with a small laugh
and a shake of his head.
“I'm honestly surprised
I didn't end up dead
“before I had become
a legally grown man.
And now, here I am,
doing the best that I can
“to keep my life from taking
another nose dive.
Taking it day by day
and just staying alive.”
At first, Santa didn't
seem to know what to say.
He stood there in silence
with a look of dismay.
“You don't have anything?”
Santa finally said.
“Nothing,” Nick replied.
“All I've got's what's in my head.
“A nightmare where I just
never seem to see her.
And in my other memories,
she's just a blur,
“like she's out of focus
or something. It's damn weird.”
Santa let his gaze lower
as he stroked his beard.
“At least I can remember
her voice,” added Nick.
“But what my mother looked like
just refused to stick.
“I tried therapy when
I wanted to get clean.
I told my shrink about this,
asked, 'What does it mean?',
“and he said that maybe what
I saw scarred my mind.
The trauma of the storm
and how they couldn't find
“my mother got mixed up
inside of my own head.”
With sadness in his eyes,
he sorrowfully said,
“But I really wish that I
could see her again,
and not just this blur
that I've had ever since then.
“To hear her talk to me
without having to yell
over ev'rything around
us going to hell.”
“I wish I could help, Nick,”
Santa said with regret.
“If I could, I'd do something
to help you forget
“what happened to you
and your mom on that bad day.
But I'm no magician
who can just wave away
“a bad memory or
bring back those who've passed on.”
“I know,” Nick replied.
“I just wish she wasn't gone.”
“I do too,” someone said
in the same woman's voice
he'd heard in his nightmare.
“And if I had the choice,
“I'd be right there with you
to ease your mind and heart.
But the world had other
plans to keep us apart.”
Nick began to look
all around bewilderedly.
“What the-?” he uttered.
“Yes, Nick,” the voice said. “It's me.”
“But... how?” he asked, puzzled
at what he had just heard.
That was when a shape appeared
that was very blurred.
So much so, that it looked
like some odd-colored cloud
that resembled who
he'd seen when the F3 plowed
into their home and he'd been
gotten to safety.
“Mom?” he asked as he watched
the cloud. “Is it really-”
“I don't have a lot of time,”
the woman's voice said.
“So please, don't ask questions.
Just let me speak instead.
“I know you lost me
when you were just a young boy.
That you suffered a lot
and found so little joy
“as you tried to grow up
without me at your side.
That you felt so alone
as you grieved and you cried.
“But I've always been near you
when you needed me.
I just had no voice to hear,
or body to see.”
“I don't even have a place
to mourn you,” Nick plead.
“No pictures, no trinkets...
I got nothing, instead.”
“I know,” the woman's voice came.
“I'm here to fix that.
It's the best I can do
with our brief time to chat.
“When you wake up, my boy,
go to the place you'll see.
Once you get there, I promise
that you will find me.”
It was then that the sound
of sirens began to
fade in from the distance
as they made their way through
the fog that surrounded
where Santa and Nick stood
among all of the pieces
of metal and wood.
“Help's on the way,” Santa said
as he looked to where
the road vanished into
the dense fog that was there.
As the siren's grew louder,
the woman's voice said,
“I'll be at that place, Nick.
You'll find me in my bed.”
“Bed?” Nick replied as he
watched the cloud start to fade.
Then with urgency,
“Mom, you can't leave!” he forbade.
Within a few seconds,
Nick was snapped wide awake.
He sat up in his chair,
gave his head a small shake,
then mumbled, “What the hell?”
as he rubbed his forehead
just before a mumbled
“I gotta piss,” was said.
Inside the bathroom,
as he took himself that piss,
a mental image surfaced
from his mind's abyss.
He stood in place and mulled
over what he had seen;
of a place familiar
with a lake so serene,
the water had no ripples.
It was smooth as glass.
The lake was surrounded
by a huge field of grass,
in which a single tree
rose up above it all.
“I know that place,” Nick gasped.
“I have to make a call!”
Within a couple of hours,
Nick had called in sick
to work and gotten himself
a plane ticket, quick.
By early afternoon,
he was on his way to
the place he'd seen that he
was certain he knew.
Once on the ground, Nick
got a rental and went down
to the cop station
of what was once his home town.
He told the police chief
about what had gone down
with his dream and the lake
some ten miles from the town.
And once Nick was finished
describing ev'rything,
he was insistent with his
request that they bring
anything that might be
needed to search the lake.
The chief was hesitant
and thought Nick's tale was fake,
but Nick swore that it was
all true and not a lie.
At six the next morning,
the search team was parked by
that lake as they began
to sift through the water
and the lake's slimy bottom
as they searched for her.
Nick paced back and forth as
he stood near the shore line.
Hours passed by, until it was
about half past nine
when someone yelled they'd found
something in the lake's bed.
At that moment, Nick knew,
they'd found his mom's deathbed.
In the days that followed,
DNA tests were run.
The remains where Nick's mother's,
which meant that her son
could give her a proper grave
for her final rest.
And doing so took a huge
weight off of Nick's chest.
He paid the extra cash
to get it done so she
could have her place of rest
given to her quickly.
And on Christmas Eve,
Nick paid his first visit to
his mother's resting place
in plot three-twenty two.
On that night, for the first time
in what had to seem
like an entire lifetime,
Nick did not have that dream.
Instead, he slept soundly
and began Christmas Day
with a smile as he got up
and then washed away
the “sleepy seeds” from his eyes
in the bathroom sink
and used the cup in there
to get water to drink.
He left the bathroom as
his eyes stung from the soap.
And that was when he saw
the small white envelope
on the coffee table.
“That wasn't there before,”
he mumbled to himself,
then looked to the front door.
He could see that the door
still remained chained and locked.
The sight of that brought him
to look a little shocked.
He went over and picked
the envelope up and
took out the letter
within it with his right hand.
He tossed the empty
envelope onto the floor.
And soon, his sleep-riddled
eyes had begun to pour
over what was written
in the letter he held.
But just a few lines in,
“What the hell?” he expelled.
“Nick,” the letter began.
“I want to talk with you
a little about the
nightmare that you went through.
“What I saw in your mind
was something horrific.
A brutal tragedy
like that would surely stick
“with someone who'd gone through it
for their entire life
and undoubtedly cause
untold amounts of strife.
“It's easy to see why
you had turned to the drink.
To endure such a thing
would cause most hearts to sink
“to a bad place that
many would not want to see.
And such events can cause lives
to shift drastic'ly.
“You lost all that you knew
in one minute's passing.
Your home, your mom and
the life you knew... ev'rything.
“Those are things I can't return
to those who would ask.
To make it all come back,
is just too big a task.
“Your mother gave her life
so that you might live on.
She did that out of love.
And although she's been gone
“for quite a few years,
it still stings you to this day.
But please, don't fear that pain
or push it all away.
“It's there to remind you
how she loved you so much,
that your mom was willing
to endure death's cold touch
“and make sure you saw
the life that she wanted for
the one who came from her.
The one she did adore.
“That bad day took her from you
in more ways than one.
And though that event's
something that can't be undone,
“I hope what you saw
last night will give you some peace.
That the nightmares and hard nights
will finally cease
“to burden you now that you'll
get to see her too.
And that, my dear boy,
is my Christmas gift to you.”
“See her?” Nick remarked with
confusion on his face.
“It was just that odd cloud
in my dream of that place.”
It was a moment before
a bright flash appeared
that filled the air with light
before it disappeared.
Nick looked down a bit as
he blinked his eyes quickly
a few times to both
recover and let him see
that the light had come from
the envelope that he
had opened, which continued
to still glow dimly.
“What the hell?” Nick uttered,
confusion in his stare
that was locked on the
envelope as he stood there.
It took a few seconds,
but he soon reached down for
the envelope where it
still rested on the floor.
When he picked it up,
he felt something inside.
“This was empty before,”
he said, then chose to slide
his fingers into it.
And what he found inside,
made his jaw go slack
as his eyes opened quite wide.
He pulled out an old photo
that was stained by mud.
And when he saw it,
memories began to flood
his mind as he looked at
the scene the photo held,
which brought tears to his eyes
as his emotions swelled.
In the photo was a boy
who was about six.
He wore a shirt with
the logo of the band Styx
going across its front
as he smiled with such glee
in the midst of what looked
like a birthday party.
There were balloons behind him
and a small cake that
was adorned with six burning
candles where it sat.
Behind all those balloons
was a banner that read,
“Happy Birthday, Nick!”
in blue, green, yellow and red
letters that were tilted
and lined up so askew,
that it looked like it was drawn
by a child of two.
“That's me,” Nick said as
a small smile came to his face.
“I remember that shirt
that I won in some race
“at school, where we had to
spin around where we stood,
before we all had to run
as best as we could
“to the finish line without
falling to the floor.
I came in second, and that
shirt was my big score.”
But his train of thought then
vanished when his eyes came
to rest on who else
was there in the cam'ra's frame.
There was a woman next
to his six year old self.
She was leaning over
and looked beside herself
as she smiled with her arms
around his far shoulder.
She looked at most thirty,
and not a year older.
Her round face and warm smile
were filled with so much joy
as she gave a side hug
to that six year old boy.
Her cheek was pressed to his
as they looked at the one
who had been taking
the picture of all the fun.
Nick said nothing as
his eyes grew glassier still,
until from their corners,
his tears began to spill.
They made their way slowly
down his left and right cheek
as he let out a sad, “Mom,”
that was strained and weak.
He looked at the picture
for just a moment more,
until his emotions
at last began to pour
out of him as he started
to quietly cry.
He did this for a
minute until he did try
to regain his composure
just enough to say,
“Hi, Mom,” as he fought hard
to keep his tears at bay.
He set the envelope
on the coffee table,
then went to get tissues
so that he was able
to look over what was
in the photo and not
damage the photo more
with falling tears and snot.
Once he'd left the room,
the envelope was taken
away in a bright flash
of light that was gone when
Nick returned to the room
and had himself a seat
on his sofa before
he brought up both his feet
and rested them on the
coffee table before
him so he could look over
the photo some more.
For the first time in quite
a large number of years,
he saw his mother through
both sad and happy tears.
In a violent moment,
nature took away
ev'rything he knew just
after his sixth birthday.
The horror of it
left him without even one
thing or mental picture
of the loving woman
who brought him into
the world, 40 years ago.
But now he could see her
and how she loved him so.
The short stretch of time
she was with him as he grew,
come flooding back to him
as if it was all new.
He now had a face
to put to her, which meant he
felt more attachment
to each precious memory.
And though they were few,
they brought him a new found joy
as he looked at the one
he lost as a young boy.
Sometimes the world can take
what is dear to someone
and cause deep scars on those
left behind when it's done.
They can be on the body,
or the mind and heart.
And the latter two scars
can still tear lives apart.
But once in a while,
even unseen scars can be
healed so that the one
inflicted, can be pain free.
And so, as Nick basked in
that moment's healing light,
Merry Christmas to all.
And too all, a good night.

Another year, another Twas. Yes, it's that time yet again, where I go off on a rhyming spree and concoct a tale of Christmasy stuff. This one's a long one... seriously. It's the longest one I've written to date. If you have to pee, do it now. And if you don't have to pee, you probably will by the time you reach the end.  So get comfy and here... we... go!
'Twas XX: Head 'Em Off At The Pass
by
The Coop
Twas two days before Christmas
and throughout the hall,
a small-ish group of people
were enjoying all
the food and atmosphere that
had been set up for
the big end of year party
for Toby's Decor.
The small hall had been rented
just outside of town
for the employees to
have some fun and get down.
The ten people who worked for one
Toby McGlare,
chatted and mingled as some
music filled the air.
Among those who had gathered
was one Bert Deline,
who talked with his colleagues and
sipped on the cheap wine
that had been provided for
those in attendance;
wine not too good or bad,
so it straddled that fence.
But as he talked to Fred,
who he'd worked with awhile,
Toby came up to Bert
and gave Bert a big smile.
“How are ya, Bert my boy?”
Toby asked as he slid
an arm around Bert's shoulders,
and walked as he did.
“I'm good,” Bert replied as
he strolled with Toby. “You?”
Toby said, “I'm fine, thanks.
You know, I wanted to
“come by and say thank you for
helping make this year
one that ended up being
a truly top tier
“stretch for my company.
It couldn't have happened
if it weren't for people
like you, Bert my friend.
“In Phoenix Arizona,
we are the top place
to go to when folks want
to decorate their space!”
“You're welcome, Toby,” Bert smiled.
“And thank you as well
from both myself, and of course,
from my wife Michelle.
“I've really enjoyed getting
to come to work here.
And I hope I can help
do this again next year.”
Toby laughed a bit and said,
“Don't worry about
what's to come with this place.
Just enjoy this blowout.”
With a pat on Bert's back,
Toby walked away and
spoke with someone else nearby
as he shook their hand.
With a big shit-eating grin,
Bert walked back to Fred
and took the time to repeat
what Toby had said.
When Michelle soon returned
from her trip to the loo,
Bert told her all about
what Toby had said, too.
But after another hour,
the party wound down.
Everyone said their goodbyes
and drove back to town.
Twas a fun night with
coworkers that ended well
for everyone there,
including Bert and Michelle.
The next morning saw Bert
sleep in a little bit.
But soon Michelle called out,
“Get up you lazy shit!”
“Yeah yeah,” Bert replied before
he let out a yawn.
“God forbid that I'd sleep in
a little past dawn.”
Michelle entered the room
as he sat up in bed.
She leaned down and kissed him with,
“Mornin', sleepy head.”
“Now you're nice to me?” he grinned
as she did the same.
“Get your cute butt up,” she said,
“or it's you I'll blame
“if we end up missing
our flight this afternoon.”
“We've got eight hours,” he said.
“Why get ready so soon?”
“Because you procrastinate,”
she said as she stood,
and added, “and don't give
yourself the time you should.”
“I'm not that bad,” he chuckled.
“Uh huh,” she replied.
“You couldn't be on time
for something if you tried.”
He repeated what she'd said
in a mocking tone,
making her laugh as he
stood up with a small groan.
The morning continued as
they got dressed and ate,
packed their clothes and supplies,
then proceeded to wait.
It was just 9 A.M.,
and their flight was at three.
That left plenty of time
to kill, which Bert took glee
in pointing out as he
poked fun at how Michelle
sat on the sofa and looked
very bored as hell.
“We could still be sleeping,”
he said with a large smirk.
She tried to look grumpy
as she grinned, “Quiet, jerk.”
As the noon hour drew near,
she asked Bert, “Will you see
if there's any mail out there
for you or for me?”
He did as she'd asked
and found that there was indeed
a single letter there
for him to get and read.
He tore it open as he
reentered the house
and was asked “What's that, hun?”
by his beloved spouse.
“A note from work,” he said.
“Not sure what it could be.”
“A bonus check?” she put forth.
He replied, “Maybe?”
With the envelope opened,
he began to read.
As his eyes skimmed the paper,
she could see how he'd
looked down with some confusion,
and then with dismay.
When she saw this, she asked,
“Honey, what does it say?”
“I've been let go,” he uttered,
his voice filled with dread.
“Wait, what?” she asked as if
she'd misheard what he'd said.
“They just... fired me,” he said with
much disappointment.
“And after how well Toby
said that the year went.”
“Did they say why?” she asked
as she came up beside
her husband, who continued
to read, teary-eyed.
He said, “They say it was
a performance issue.”
With ire in her voice, she said
“That's why they canned you?”
Bert looked over at his wife
and saw her vexed stare.
He said, “I worked my ass off
each day I was there.”
“Are you sure?” she said with
disbelief in her eyes.
“Because I've heard that before
with some of your lies.”
“I did!” he exclaimed.
“I swear on my mother's grave!
Everyone there will tell you
that I always gave
“them a hand when they needed
it once I had done
the work I'd been given
by Toby or someone.
“I didn't slack off or
do a shit job with what
I'd been asked to do.
I always worked off my butt!”
“Uh huh,” she said with snark
as she stared hard at him.
“The chances of that being
true are really slim.”
“I'm not lying!” he stated,
his voice filled with dread.
“If I am, you can smack me
right upside my head!”
“Don't tempt me,” she said as
she turned and walked a bit
away from him and uttered,
“I'm sick of this shit.
“It's barely been over
two years since you got hired.
And now right before Christmas,
you got yourself fired!”
“I didn't!” he yelped.
“So they lied?” she hollered back.
“It's the truth!” he pleaded.
“Can't you cut me some slack?”
She said, “I told you that
if you got fired once more
for slacking off at work,
that I'd walk out the door!”
“Baby, please!” Bert said as
he came up to her and,
with an almost panicked look,
took hold of her hand.
She pulled her hand from his
and went to their bedroom,
where he could hear her
as she continued to fume.
She was swearing a lot,
all directed at Bert.
And some of what she said
had clearly left him hurt.
She called him a screw up.
That she didn't know why
she continued to stay
with him or even try.
It took her a minute
before she came back out
with her luggage in hand
and said with a stern shout,
“I'm going to my parents
and you're staying here!
You better find a new job
before the new year
or I'm kicking you out
of my life and my place!”
Her words pulled a puzzled
sadness onto Bert's face.
“But everything's closed
for the holiday's,” Bert said.
She spat, “Find a damn job
or our marriage is dead!”
She left the house in a huff,
got into her truck,
and drove off as Bert uttered
a dejected, “Fuck.”
Now alone in the house,
Bert sat down on the couch
with a forlorn expression
to go with his slouch.
All his emotions
were reflected on his face.
And it was clear that they were
all over the place.
“I don't believe this,” he said
with confused dismay.
“How'd it get to this point?
Things were good yesterday.
“And why'd Michelle talk like I
was some kind of bum?
Sure, I've screwed up before,
but where'd all that come from?
“Just cuz I lost one job
as a parking valet
when I parked a jeep and
dozed off in it all day.
“I was so tired and cold,
and the jeep was so warm.
It only happened twice,
so it wasn't the norm.
“And yeah, then I got fired
from the diner in town.
I didn't know egg shells
could also be light brown.
“I thought they'd all gone bad,
so I threw them away.
No reason to ban me
from that place to this day.”
Bert sat there for a bit
with a sad, forlorn stare.
“Guess I best see if I can
find a job somewhere.”
He got up from the sofa
and grabbed his car keys.
“Let me find something so I
don't lose Michelle, please.”
He went out to his car
and hit the mall, where he
checked in every store.
From Boscov's to FYE.
Not one store was in need
of a new employee.
They all turned him away
after hearing his plea
about the situation
in which he was stuck.
And he left the last store
with a disheartened, “Fuck.”
As he walked through the mall,
headed for it's entrance,
he spotted a section
that was lined by a fence
which had been painted to look
like candy cane rows.
And each of them was adorned
by green and gold bows.
Inside that colorful fence,
the floor had fake snow
through which a short path of
golden bricks did go.
They went in a straight line
to a big wooden throne.
And on it was Santa,
who sat there all alone.
When Bert looked all about,
he saw no kids in line.
Santa had no elves who stood
at the “entrance” sign.
The mall was pretty crowded,
which made it seem weird
to see a bored Santa
just stroking his white beard.
Bert stared at the odd scene
for a minute before
he went to the path that
ran through the snowy floor.
He walked down the gold road,
headed for the one that
then let out a rather loud
yawn from where he sat.
“Bored?” Bert asked to the man
on the Christmasy throne.
“I've never been this bored,”
Santa said with a groan.
“Where's everyone?” Bert asked.
“Wish I knew,” Santa said.
“The only one to come here
in two hours is you.”
Bert grinned with, “Guess ebay
took some business from you.”
Santa grinned as well and said,
“That's probably true.
“I guess kids don't need me
for their holiday cheer.
But what's on your Christmas list
that you'd like this year?”
Once Bert stood before Santa's
big, fancy old chair,
some sadness then began to
creep into Bert's stare.
“A new job would be nice,”
Bert said with some dismay.
“I just found out that
mine's gone, earlier today.
“Also, a way to convince
my wife Michelle to
not break up with my ass,
like she's about to do.”
Bert gave a saddened smile,
coupled with a small shrug.
“Those would do,” he added
as the smile left his mug.
Santa looked at Bert with
a puzzled sympathy,
then said, “That's a lot to ask
of someone like me.
“The folks I work with make toys
and some clothing too.
I'm not sure what kind of help
I could give to you.”
 
“Was worth a try,” Bert said
with a small, unsure laugh.
That was when a PA
was made by the mall's staff.
“The mall will close soon, folks”
rang out for all to hear.
“You don't have to go home,
but you sure can't stay here.
“You've got fifteen minutes
to buy your stuff and bounce.
If you're not done by then,
then I'll have to announce
“we're unleashing the dogs
to chase you all away.
Thanks for shopping with us.
Enjoy your holiday.”
Bert let out a small laugh
and said, “Guess that's my cue.
Have a good one, and sorry
if I bothered you.”
Without another word,
Bert turned and walked away
as Santa looked on as if
unsure what to say.
Bert returned to his car
and drove back home, to where
he plunked down on the couch
and quietly sat there.
Seconds became minutes.
And as each minute passed,
it saw him slowly get
angrier than the last.
He stewed in his juices
and his stare became stern
as his emotions clearly
continued to churn.
“I never slacked off,” he griped.
“I was there each day.
I don't care what that
fucking letter has to say.
“I worked hard moving all
the furniture around,
and getting it all there in
one piece, safe and sound.
“Toby always told me that
I worked really well.
Now they tell me I didn't?
What the fucking hell?”
He fell silent for a time
as he sat alone.
But soon, he continued
in a still angry tone.
“My life's falling apart
because of that damn place.
That prick had to know when
he smiled right to my face
and told me how I was
just such a great asset.
Toby knew that I'd
already been fired, I bet. ”
He tried to relax and
calm himself for a bit.
At times, he'd mill about.
At others, he'd just sit
and brood on what happened
'till hunger made him eat.
He had a small dinner of
some noddles and meat.
But as he did the dishes,
his frustration grew.
And once he was done, he sneered,
“I know what to do.”
He went into the bedroom
and got out a box
that was made of metal
and tucked under his socks.
He used a small key to
unlock the box's lid,
then opened it up to
reveal what the box hid.
The black metal of the gun,
while far from pristine
thanks to scuff marks and scratches,
still gave off a sheen.
Bert took out the gun and held
it for a short bit,
then said, “Let's see you smile
when you see this, you shit.”
He took out the clip that had
been stored with the gun,
slid it into the weapon,
and once that was done,
he made sure that he had
his keys and his wallet
as he mumbled, “I've got me
some answers to get.”
He grabbed his jacket and
put the gun out of sight
in one of the pockets,
then stepped into the night.
He got into his car and
pulled out his smart phone.
He dug through his emails
until his phone had shown
him what he had looked for;
an old email that showed
his ex-boss' address.
With that, he hit the road.
It took a good half hour,
but he soon pulled up to
the nice two-story home
that Toby did accrue.
The home's lights were all on.
Faint music could be heard.
Bert mumbled to himself as
his anger was stirred,
“I lose my job and most
likely lost Michelle too.
While my life goes to shit,
what does this fucker do?
“He parties like what he did
was nothing to him.”
It was then that Bert chose
to run with his dark whim.
He got out of his small car,
walked across the road,
and up the driveway of
his ex-boss' abode.
He came up to the front door
with an intent stare.
But instead of knocking,
Bert just simply stood there
with a look on his face
that mixed ire and unease.
It was then that he felt
a light but chilly breeze
kick up from behind him
which gave him a small chill.
“What the-?” he said softly.
“It's 60 degrees, still.”
He turned and looked at
the dark and clear Phoenix skies,
when a small and white object
moved before his eyes.
What looked like a snowflake
drifted toward where he stood.
“60 degrees with a snowflake?
This can't be good.”
He watched as the snowflake
meandered through the air.
Soon it stopped near his face
and simply hovered there.
It tumbled and turned as
Bert brought up a finger
and reached for it where
it continued to linger.
As his finger closed in,
the snowflake moved away.
Bert looked dumbfounded and
unsure of what to say.
The snowflake continued
to move away until
it reached the edge of the house,
where it became still.
It hovered again
as Bert kept his eyes on it.
After a moment,
he uttered, “What is this shit?”
He began to walk over
toward the snowflake that
seemed as if it was waiting
where it hovered at.
When he got close again,
it drifted to the right
around the corner,
which took the thing from Bert's sight.
With a little urgency,
he quickened his pace
and peaked around the side
of his ex-boss' place.
He saw the snowflake
continue along the wall
and followed after it,
like a dog would a ball.
The snowflake then drifted
around to the home's back.
And when Bert did the same,
he was taken aback.
Before him was a man,
dressed in Santa attire.
This caused Bert to jump slightly,
and made him inquire,
“Who the hell are you?”
as the fat man dug around
in the large sack before him
that sat on the ground.
“I could ask you the same,”
the man said just before
he looked up with, “Ah!
Just who I was looking for.”
Bert's surprise could be seen on
his face and raised brow.
What looked like the mall Santa
stood before him now.
“What the-?” Bert said with
great confusion as the man
looked back down and uttered,
“Help me out, if you can.”
“With what?” Bert then asked
as he saw the fat man dig
out an outfit that didn't
look overly big.
“Here, put this on,” Santa said
and held out the clothes.
“I need a helper tonight
and I don't suppose
“you'd be willing to lend me
a hand for a bit?”
Bert said to the fat man,
“This a joke or some shit?”
“It's no joke,” Santa said
“My helper called in sick.
The kids are waiting, so please,
do put that on, quick.”
Bert lifted the clothes up and
gave them a look-see.
His face then went slack
as he said, “You're shitting me.”
He held light green tights and some
dark green, curl-toed shoes.
There was also a dark green,
pointed hat to use
along with a jacket that
looked long enough to
reach down to his knees that was
the same dark green hue.
And what rested on top
of the seasonal clothes?
Some points for his ears and
a long tip for his nose.
But on top of all that,
was the fact he could tell
that the clothes looked too small...
by quite a bit, as well.
“You want me to be an elf?!”
Bert yelped with dismay.
“That's the plan,” Santa said.
“So help me out, OK?”
“I didn't come here to
play dress up,” Bert stated.
“I know,” Santa said, “but
just think of how each kid
“inside of that home will smile
when they look at you.”
With a straight face, Bert said,
“Laugh at me's what they'll do.”
“Nonsense,” Santa said
with a small mischievous grin.
“Just go put that stuff on
and then we can begin.”
Bert wasn't sure what to say
as he looked around
for someplace he could change clothes.
But none could be found.
“Not to be a dick,” Bert said.
“or come of as rude,
but I'm not undressing
right in front of you, dude.”
“Just use the bush there,”
Santa said and pointed to
the small bush behind him.
“It's big enough for you.”
Bert looked past the guy.
And with a puzzled stare,
he looked to the bush
he was sure hadn't been there.
With a slight shake of his head,
Bert let out a sigh
as he went to the bush
that was about waist high.
From behind the bush,
Bert mumbled, “This is deranged.”
And for the elf's outfit,
his street clothes were exchanged.
“Dear God, this is tight!”
Bert grimaced as he got dressed
and felt his junk be
uncomfortably compressed.
Once done, he hid his clothes
under the shrubbery,
then stepped out into
the open for all to see.
“Jesus Christ,” Bert uttered
as he stood and looked down
at himself and his attire.
“I look like a clown.”
Santa chuckled a bit,
then quickly cleared his throat.
“More like an elf,” he said
and brushed off his red coat.
“Now come on, my helper.
We've got kids to go see.”
Bert let out a groan
and grumbled, “Someone shoot me.”
With a small laugh, Santa said,
“You'll be just fine, son.
Put on a Christmas smile
and let's go have some fun.”
The two of them went in through
the sliding glass door
and heard the party
farther in on that ground floor.
The chatter of children
and music filled the air
as they looked around
and saw they were alone there.
The dining room table
that they stood before
had already been set
with fancy plates and more.
“Must be their dining room,”
Bert said while sounding irked.
“Can't put one past you, huh?”
Santa said as he smirked.
With a glance at Santa,
Bert looked around a bit
and said, “I can't believe
I'm here doing this shit.”
“Why is that?” Santa asked
as he looked back at Bert.
“Long story,” Bert answered,
his reply somewhat curt.
“That so?” Santa said.
“I've love to hear this long tale.”
A moment later,
Bert spotted Toby's wife, Gail
as she slid open the
dividing door that gave
the dining room privacy
from the would-be rave.
“Dear God I hope they don't
recognize me,” Bert said
as he kept his voice quiet
and lowered his head.
“Don't worry,” Santa smiled
as Gail noticed them there.
“The nose will throw them off.
There's no need for despair.”
Gail slid the door shut and
walked over to the men.
“Wonderful,” she whispered.
“You're all set to go then?”
“We're ready,” Santa smiled.
“Take us to the children.”
“They'll really love this,” she smiled.
“Let's go gentlemen.”
Within one minute's time,
Santa and Bert were in
the living room surrounded
by Toby's children.
The adults all smiled as
the kids loudly exclaimed
that Santa had come with
an elf that was unnamed.
Santa greeted each child
with a big and warm smile,
as Bert kept himself out
of the way for a while.
He stood off to the side
and kept watch on the sack
that Santa had had with him
when they were out back.
But soon, Bert found himself
pulled deep into what felt
like a whirlwind of chaos
that made his brain melt.
Kids laughing and yelping
as Santa did his best
to make sure that every
child there had been addressed
as question after question
came repeatedly
from the kids who had asked them
so excitedly.
But Santa wasn't alone.
Bert too found himself
asked many a question
about being an elf.
What's it like at the north pole?
What he did for fun
during the six months when
the north pole had no sun?
Did his big ears get cold
around all of that snow?
Do they all use toilets,
or an outhouse to go?
What's it like wearing tights?
What's up with the weird shoes?
If he could play just Dark Souls,
which one would he choose?
What color was his blood?
Did he have a girlfriend?
What happens to Santa's elves
when they meet their end?
Where do baby elves come from
and how small are they?
How do the reindeer poop
as they pull Santa's sleigh?
These questions and much more
flooded Bert as he tried
to entertain the kids
and fight the urge to hide.
Several of the children asked
why was he so tall
when all the pictures they'd seen
showed elves that were small?
Bert told the kids that he'd had
a thyroid problem
as a child, and that's where
his growth spurt had come from.
But that led to more questions
from the kids because
none of them knew just what
the hell a thyroid was.
For an hour, Bert and Santa
mingled and talk to
all those who were there;
the children and adults, too.
At the end of that hour,
Bert and Santa then got
a chance to take a break...
which they needed, a lot.
So Toby distracted
all the kids with a tale,
as Bert and Santa were
smuggled away by Gail
into the kitchen where
both men could catch their breath
as Bert uttered, “I was
almost questioned to death.”
Santa laughed a bit with,
“Kids are like that you know.
Once they get talking, they'll just
go and go and go.”
“Especially ours,” Gail smiled.
“Like a chatterbox.
But for now, just stay here
and let your brains detox.”
“Thank you, Gail,” Santa said.
“We appreciate it.”
“You're welcome,” Gail replied.
“I'll be back in a bit.”
Once Gail left the kitchen,
Bert looked to Santa with,
“I don't drink, but holy shit,
I could use a fifth.”
“Of what?” Santa asked him.
“Anything,” Bert replied.
“I feel like part of my brain
just crawled off and died.”
“Now now, they're just kids,”
Santa said with a small smile.
“They calm down over time.
It just takes them awhile.”
Bert said nothing for a bit
and rubbed his forehead.
“I have a question,”
he eventually said.
Santa turned to face him with,
“And what would that be?”
Bert asked, “Why are you doing
all of this to me?”
“You said you needed a job,”
Santa said flatly.
“So I gave you a job,
working right here with me.”
“So you are the Santa
from the mall,” Bert stated.
“You got your Christmas wish,”
Santa smiled. “Elated?”
“I came to get answers,
not this,” Bert did reply
and tugged on his green jacket.
“I want to know why
“I was fired, when I worked
my ass off for Toby.
I want to know why that
damn prick did this to me.”
“Calm down,” Santa said,
his tone firmer than it was.
“You should be glad I found you
when I did, because-”
It was then that the sound
of footsteps could be heard,
which made Santa stop talking
almost in mid-word.
It took a few moments,
but Santa and Bert found
that they were joined by Toby,
who was kitchen-bound.
“Ev'ning, gentlemen,”
Toby said as he went to
the refrigerator
and got himself a brew.
“My wife and I really
appreciate you two
coming here tonight.
And I know the kids do too.”
“But of course,” Santa smiled.
“It's my job, as it were.
Giving kids Christmas cheer
is always a pleasure.”
“You know, speaking of jobs,”
Bert chimed in with some snark
as he looked to Toby
with a stare that was dark.
“I would like to know why
you took my job from me
after you thanked me for
helping your company.”
Santa looked to the man
who'd been his helper elf.
“Not now,” he said sternly.
“Get a hold of yourself.”
Bert looked to Santa with,
“And when would the time be?
After I'm homeless and
Michelle's gone and left me?”
“Do I know you?” Toby asked,
his gaze questioning.
Bert grabbed his nose's tip with,
“I'm sick of this thing.”
He gave the thing on his nose
a good, solid tug.
But it wouldn't come off,
as it's fit was quite snug.
“What the hell?” Bert uttered
as he tried once again.
He gave it a much harder tug,
and that was when
he felt a pain shoot through
his nose as he sucked in
some air through his teeth with,
“Damn thing's stuck on my skin!”
He then tried a third time,
but the pain was intense.
It made his eyes water
as he became more tense.
“What's going on?!” Bert exclaimed
as his eyes grew wide.
The tips on his ears were
the next thing that he tried.
He gave those ear tips
he'd put on a solid yank.
When they didn't come off,
he yelled, “Is this a prank?!”
“Calm down,” Santa stated.
“No!” Bert yelled in return
as his expression filled with
even more concern.
Bert then tried to take off
the shoes that he had on,
yet they wouldn't come off
as he used all his brawn.
He tried to remove the
elven jacket he wore,
and grumbled “I'm not
wearing this thing anymore!”
Toby watched with alarm
as he saw a grown dude
and the elf clothes he wore
get into a big feud.
Then behind all the noises
Bert made as he fought,
a small creek came to be,
which only Santa caught.
Just a moment later,
a loud clang could he heard,
and Bert fell to the floor
like a bag full of curd.
Toby's eyes got big as
he watched the elf-dressed man
go limply to the floor
just as a frying pan
hit the floor with a clunk
right against the man's head.
Toby looked up a bit
and noticed that instead
of a shut cabinet door
where the pan had been,
was a wide open door
that hadn't kept it in.
“How'd that fall out?”
Toby asked rhetorically,
to which, Santa shrugged with
a grin and said, “Beat's me.”
Gail came in quickly
with, “What was all of that noise?”
When she saw the knocked out man,
“Care to explain, boys?”
“The pan just fell out,”
Toby explained, bewildered.
“It and the guy hitting
the floor is what you heard.”
“Well, get him up off the floor,”
Gail said with a sigh.
“And I'll get an ice pack
ready for the poor guy.”
“Tell you what,” Santa said.
“Why don't the two of you
go out and keep everyone
from coming into
“the kitchen for a bit
while I take care of this.”
“Are you sure?” Gail asked.
Santa nodded, “I am, miss.”
“Alright,” Gail replied
before she and Toby went
and rejoined their kids
with a distractive intent.
Once she and Toby had left,
Santa then looked down
at the unconscious Bert
with disheartened frown.
“Sorry, son,” Santa said
with his voice quieted.
“Hope you won't have too big
of a lump on your head.”
Santa snapped his fingers
and the room filled with light.
Once that light had faded,
Bert was nowhere in sight.
Santa waited a bit,
then rejoined everyone
who had thrown the small party
for Christmasy fun.
The next morning arrived
and found Bert in his bed.
His head was quite sore,
as was to be expected.
He opened his eyes and
grimaced a bit at what
felt as if the back of
his head had quite the knot.
He could tell that it was
still early morning since
sunlight still came through
his window, which made him wince.
With a groan, he sat up
and could feel his head throb.
“Dear God,” he sighed. “Feels like
I got mugged by a mob.”
He rubbed the soar back
of his head for a short time,
then out from under the
thick covers, he did climb.
He went into the bathroom
and relieved himself,
then looked in the mirror
and saw he was an elf.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed
as he started a bit,
just as his memories
of the night before hit.
He recalled going to
his old boss' home and
met a mall Santa,
to whom he'd given a hand.
Of questions from kids that
seemed to not have an end.
How he'd run into Toby,
who Bert did intend
to confront with the way
he'd been fired from his job.
But that was where his
memories became a blob.
He focused on his
reflection in the mirror
while memories of the
night before grew clearer.
With a hint of panic,
he grabbed hold of his nose
and pulled off the end bit
as his confusion rose.
“Oh, now it comes off,” he said
and stared at the bit
that wouldn't let go back
when he'd struggled with it.
He took off the ear tips
he'd worn and then did choose
to remove from his feet,
the dark green curl-toed shoes.
Every last thing came off
without any issue
as he removed the jacket,
hat and the tights too.
He put on his bathrobe and
began to look for
the stuff he'd had on
when he went to Toby's door.
But those clothes were missing,
as was the gun he took.
“Bet that mall Santa kept them,”
he griped. “The damn crook.”
He went out into
the living room and sat down
on the couch with a rather
noticeable frown.
“That was a fucked up night,”
he groaned as he reached back
and rubbed the spot where
something'd given him a whack.
“Wish I knew what hit me
on the back of my head,
or how I got back home
and wound up in my bed.”
It took a second before
he saw the off white
envelope on the coffee
table to his right.
“Where'd this come from?” he asked
as he reached over to
pick it up so that he
could get a better view.
It's front just said “Bert”
in a handwriting that he
didn't know at all.
He asked, “Who gave this to me?
“It wasn't here when I left
last night, that's for sure.”
He opened it and
over its text, he did pour.
“Dear Bert,” it began.
“I hope that you're doing well.
You're back home and safe now,
in case you couldn't tell.
“I'm sure that you have
more than a question or two
about how you got home
and what happened to you.
“But rather than tell you
how all that came to be,
here is a bit of advice,
courtesy of me.
“The path that you wanted
to head down just last night,
was one that was dark and
born of malice and spite.
“What you went there to do
would not have ended well.
The result would have been
you being in a cell
or worse if things had taken
a darker-still turn.
What laid down that dark road,
be glad you didn't learn.
“I know you lost a lot
in a short bit of time.
It was a big mountain
that felt too steep to climb.
“Anger, pain and frustration
had filled up your mind,
and the path to get out
seemed much too hard to find.
“For as bad as it seemed,
it could still have been fixed.
Yet there you were, set to
make sure that chance was nixed.
“I know you lost your job
by means that felt unfair.
Your wife got angry and left,
like she didn't care.
“That was a lot to have
dumped on you in one day.
But it's no solution to
throw your life away
“or take someone else's
in a bid to strike back
at the world when it felt
like it cut you no slack.
“Last night, you came too close
to losing any way
of regaining some of
what you lost yesterday.
“I get you felt anger,
along with great despair.
That what happened had to
feel so very unfair.
“It was bad, what your ex-boss
decided to do.
It was callus, unfeeling
and cold-hearted too.
“But if you had done what
you'd been thinking about,
you'd have found yourself
in a hole, with no way out.
“Take this chance to learn from
what nearly cost you all
of your future plans,
and the upcoming phone call.
“Your clothes and gun are gone,
so don't bother to look
for them in your home.
And please, don't call me a crook.
“You're home despite how
you'd tried to cause a ruckus.
And rest assured that last night
will stay between us.”
A moment later,
the letter he held was lit
like a hundred light bulbs
had turned on within it.
The bright light made Bert gasp
as he turned his head so
he was not blinded by
the letter's intense glow.
With a pop, the light vanished
and Bert looked at how
his hands were empty,
which made him cock an eyebrow.
“Um, what the hell?” he muttered
as his phone began
to go off from his bedroom,
into which he ran.
He couldn't find it
as it continued to ring,
which prompted him to blurt out,
“Where is the damn thing?”
And once he found it
where he kept his underwear,
he grumbled, “How the hell
did this thing get in there?”
As he shook his head,
he pressed the green button on
the screen and brought the phone
to his face with a yawn.
“Hello?” he said as he tried
to fight the yawn down .
“Hi,” came a woman's voice,
which made him sadly frown.
He could hear how pensive
her voice sounded as he
uttered, “Michelle?” and
she answered with, “Yeah, it's me.”
His face was a mask of
wariness and unease
as he remained quiet,
and in place, seemed to freeze.
At first, neither spoke,
as if unsure what to say.
But in time, it was Michelle
who asked, “You OK?”
“Um, yeah, I am,” he answered
with uncertainty,
before he asked her, “So uh,
why did you call me?”
She said, “I wanted to talk
with you this morning,
before we both got busy
doing anything.”
“I'm still looking for a job,”
he said with dismay.
“I must have checked four
dozen places yesterday.”
“It's not about that,” she said.
“I called you to see
if you'd be willing
or able to forgive me.”
Bert looked like he didn't know
how he should reply.
But Michelle continued,
“I didn't mean to fly
“off the handle or to
threaten you with divorce.”
“You still want me?” he asked,
and she answered, “Of course.”
Bert said, “But the all things
you told me, made it sound
like you wanted to burn
our marriage to the ground.
“I was telling you the truth,
but you didn't care.
You just seemed to be
done with me, right then and there.”
“I know, and I'm sorry,”
she said remorsefully.
“I overreacted and
it was wrong of me
“to shit on you after
what had happened that day.
The thing is, I'm sorry's
not all I need to say.
“Last night, while I was
lying in my bed alone,
all I wanted to do
was call you on the phone.
“'Cuz the more I thought
about the things that I'd said,
the more I felt like I
wasn't right in the head.
“How I'd left you behind
began to eat at me.
It just bothered me
to a serious degree.
“I knew you were asleep,
but still wanted to call.
See how you were and
apologize for it all.
“But above all, to say
that I really miss you.”
Bert began to smile and
replied, “I miss you too.”
As they talked on the phone,
they began to work through
what had happened and how
that moment went askew.
She told him that tomorrow,
she would book a flight,
after he told her what
went on Christmas Eve night.
He left out the part where
he'd brought along a gun,
and instead focused on what
had been strangely fun.
The questions the kids asked,
the outfit that he'd worn
which made his dignity
something he had to morn.
He smiled as he listened
to who he ' nearly lost.
He thought about his life,
which he had nearly tossed
away with his actions
due to where his mind went.
Of how grateful he was
for the Santa-like gent
that he'd run into
at Toby's the night before.
And how he still had
the woman he did adore.
So much went so wrong
in just a few minute's time.
Like his life hit the brakes
and just stopped on a dime.
He'd gone to a bad place,
filled with disdain and rage;
almost brought someone's story
to it's final page.
But now he could see that
his actions almost cost
him the chance to regain
what he'd felt had been lost.
And as Bert and Michelle
worked to make all alright,
Merry Christmas to all.
And to all, a good night.

The examples seemed a little too genre ambiguous to pinpoint but the second one reminded me of some punk electronic stuff from Chemical Brothers, Depeche Mode and The Prodigy.  I'd start there and see if you find what you are looking for. 

Man, that's a tough choice.....
"Coin Song" from FFVI comes to mind as a favorite, I think just because of the scene it evokes between the two brothers flipping a coin to determine who has the misfortune of taking the throne. That little scene is some of the best writing in the series, or any series. It's pretty much the same melody as the Figaro castle theme, which immediately anchors it in your mind about what and where and who the track is about, but shifts the tone to give it an entirely different meaning soaked in a feeling of nostalgia, memories, almost happy, almost sad.
I feel like I have to name one other, and that's "Into the Darkness" from FFIV. It was the first RPG I really properly played (other than some dabbling with Dragon Warrior II and III as a kid, which mostly consisted of running in circles outside town and killing slimes until I ran out of HP and died and started over). That track in my mind is the definitive dungeon theme, as it just evokes such a feeling of vast, dark, mysterious places. I can't walk into a cave or spooky dark place in real life without hearing that theme in my head.
As you can tell, the scene a track evokes tends to be a big thing for me. One of my regrets in life is that I am not in any way musically trained, so I can't talk about the composition or harmony or sinewaves or whatever musical jargon to explain what makes a track good to me. For me, it's all about a mental image of a place or a scene that a track builds. This applies not just to game soundtracks, but to all music I enjoy. I think this is probably a direct result of all my earliest favorite music in life having come from video games, where music does indeed tend to be associated with and define specific places as you move around the game.
OK, OK, one more thought to throw out there. When playing FFVIII, the soundtrack didn't really stick out to me like the soundtracks of previous games had done. But when it came to the piano collections later, the FFVIII piano collection actually does stand out as my favorite. I think it just shows that there's a lot of potential in these tracks where if one version doesn't jump out at you, a remixed/alternate version can give it some new life and create an unexpected favorite.

Man, that's a tough choice.....
"Coin Song" from FFVI comes to mind as a favorite, I think just because of the scene it evokes between the two brothers flipping a coin to determine who has the misfortune of taking the throne. That little scene is some of the best writing in the series, or any series. It's pretty much the same melody as the Figaro castle theme, which immediately anchors it in your mind about what and where and who the track is about, but shifts the tone to give it an entirely different meaning soaked in a feeling of nostalgia, memories, almost happy, almost sad.
I feel like I have to name one other, and that's "Into the Darkness" from FFIV. It was the first RPG I really properly played (other than some dabbling with Dragon Warrior II and III as a kid, which mostly consisted of running in circles outside town and killing slimes until I ran out of HP and died and started over). That track in my mind is the definitive dungeon theme, as it just evokes such a feeling of vast, dark, mysterious places. I can't walk into a cave or spooky dark place in real life without hearing that theme in my head.
As you can tell, the scene a track evokes tends to be a big thing for me. One of my regrets in life is that I am not in any way musically trained, so I can't talk about the composition or harmony or sinewaves or whatever musical jargon to explain what makes a track good to me. For me, it's all about a mental image of a place or a scene that a track builds. This applies not just to game soundtracks, but to all music I enjoy. I think this is probably a direct result of all my earliest favorite music in life having come from video games, where music does indeed tend to be associated with and define specific places as you move around the game.
OK, OK, one more thought to throw out there. When playing FFVIII, the soundtrack didn't really stick out to me like the soundtracks of previous games had done. But when it came to the piano collections later, the FFVIII piano collection actually does stand out as my favorite. I think it just shows that there's a lot of potential in these tracks where if one version doesn't jump out at you, a remixed/alternate version can give it some new life and create an unexpected favorite.

Digging into the forums via Google, it looks like it was definitely by compyfox, but he requested that it be removed back in 2003.

I switched mine on today and it's looking good. 11/10, would recommend. Time to start catching up on the PC gaming backlog... 

got two builds for OCR folks incoming, one of whom isn't listed in the thread. looking forward to getting the parts and playing with more tech =)

I'm curious if we're going to see some laws coming out of this regarding the right of property owners to control the content of their augmented reality space. I've been talking for a while about how I should go around the neighborhood and offer people $20 to sign away their "virtual adspace rights" to me for when some hypothetical new market is created...

Anyone remember back when they changed the music between the FFVIII demo version and final version due to it supposedly sounding too much like the theme from The Rock?
 

Well, since this got necro'd, I'll just throw in a comment as well to say I've had this on my mp3 player ever since you released it. I rotate a lot of other stuff in and out, but Suburbia's got a permanent spot.

Well, since this got necro'd, I'll just throw in a comment as well to say I've had this on my mp3 player ever since you released it. I rotate a lot of other stuff in and out, but Suburbia's got a permanent spot.