@@DESCRIPT="A Christmas Story by Mr. E"              
              A Christmas Story for 1995

Chapter Four

        "Jesus fuckin Christ!!!"
          "Hurry! Hurry! Get him to the toliet
            before he hacks over everything!"

        It was quite a sight to behold. Some people can't hold their shit,
and this was a classic case of someone that had gone a little overboard.
In any case, we enjoyed it all too well. None of us were holding back.

        "Hell yeah Jimbo! Show the world what's cookin!", Brian shouted
as Jim heaved himself over the toliet. 

        "Hahaha... that was kinda neat. I thought he never puked." I said.
          "Well... every man's got his breaking point, it's obvious that 
            Jimbo has met his. hahahaha...."
        "Hahahaha... obviously."

        Such an interesting pun on Apocalypse Now, I thought, while Jim was
giving sacrifice to his porcaline god. I couldn't get that fuckin movie out 
of my head the entire night. I could hear Wagner as we froze our balls off 
outside of Frank's store. I think at one point in the night I could even 
hear the whacky Colonel screaming, "I love the smell of napalm in the 
morning... it smells like victory."

        Jimbo came back in, wiping puke off his face, while Frank was
rolling another joint. "Did you enjoy that one, eh?", asked Frank, but Jimbo 
never responded. He was just as fucked up as the rest of us.

        Now... it had gotten late, on this Christmas Eve, and we had done
alot of dope, and alot of weed. Jim had smoked a little too much rock with
a friend of his, while coming back home off "the bullshit shift". He 
worked in a cafe, down on Ravine Street that never did exactly pull through
as a source of income. Somehow he found drug dealing more profitable, and
decided not to work there anymore. 

        We had found ourselves in the craziest converstion. Frank owned a
small laundrymat on the other side of town, and was going to have to
file for bankruptcy, unless all of a sudden the world's washing machines
came to a halt, and all of Cincinnati had no other place to do laundry
besides "Franks Laundry". Somehow Frank didn't see that happening, and
with a million other problems in life, he was going to get out of buisness
before the bank took everything else. They already took his car.

        "You don't understand, Frank.", Brian was saying.  "Let me and Jim
          go over there, dump a few cans of gaseoline on the place, and
          you just give us a grand or two once you get the insurance
          money. Vandals did it... right???"
          "You're fuckin nuts. hahahaha...", I kept laughing. "Venford
           has more cops with nothing to do than District One."
           "That's pretty crazy man, but it sound like a good idea." Frank
             replied.
        "You guys don't understand. This is Christmas Eve. It's almost
         Christmas. The best time to do it would be tonight."
          "Or it could be the worst time of the year."
           "Okay... torch the place. Take care of it like how you took
             care of Pablo's car last year." Frank finally decided.
        "Hahaha... yeah, that was pretty fun."

          Brian was getting his coat on. "I'm going with him.", Jim replied,
and somehow that included me. I assumed the role of getaway. Frank stayed
behind, even though the dirty work would be ours. 
        
        "Do you want to come along Frank?", Brian asked.
          "Do you think that would be very smart if vandals did it?
           I'll give you gas money."
        "Hahahhahaha... that would be good. Jim... do you have anything
         that we can put the gas in?"
          "I think I do, Brain. I have a 5 gallon tank backup in my car."
           I said.
         "Great...." 
           "Hold up guys." Jim said. "We need to get bolt cutters and a
           sledgehammer."
         "Why would you need a sledgehammer?", Brian asked.
           "In case we need to break out a window."
         "You don't need a sledgehammer." Frank cut in.
           "I'm bringing the sledgehammer. You never know when you
           can use it. If a cop fucks with us I'll hit him in the oinker.
           hahahahaha.... oink, oink, oink. Gawd damn fuckin pig!"

We were all laughing too. We were all too fucked up to pull any of this
off.
         
         "Well Frank, we'll be back once the place is in flames."
           "Take it easy guys. And be... careful!", Frank yelled down the
           hallway as we left.

We walked out the door.


Chapter Five

        To truly understand the situtation, one must understand what occured
while driving to the laundrymat. I can't even remember stopping off at
the gas station, but we did. Brian was sitting with the 5 gallon tank,
on his lap, because I didn't have enough room in the trunk. I have yet to 
get the smell of gaseoline out of my car. We sang, most of the way, stupid 
christmas songs off the radio. At one point or another Brian had the tank 
above Jim's head, and Jim kept swinging the sledgehammer back and forth, 
almost hitting me in the stomach a couple of times. Finally, Brian sat up, 
and calmed himself down just when I started to geek out on myself.

        "I can't believe I'm driving. I can't believe I'm doing this shit,
        especially on Christmas."
          "Don't worry Ben. Life isn't that bad. You would always know
          loneliness until you can cross the street." Brian replied to me.
        "This is nuts man. I wasn't even thinking of any of this until
          about a second ago. Where the fuck are we?"
          "We're on McMillian man. We're not even on the highway. Here,
          get a load of a little of this."
        "What is it?"
          "Just a little Crank, my man."

        I took the purfume bottle, stuck it into my nose, and snorted
a little too hard. I wrenched in pain. My nose felt cut up by glass.

        "Shit..."
          "Yeah... you have to be careful. I don't think I've ever seen...
          Shit man! Go blow your nose somewhere else."

        I couldn't control my sneezing. My eyes were watering, and the
entire winshield was being covered in my snot. 

        "Fuck man. Watch out. You almost hit that asshole. Man... I think
        that was a cop."

        True enough, when you least expect a cop, you can always find one.
I see him creep up, and flash on his lights. I even think I see him
take a moment to take a bite of a big tigerclaw or something. Donuts
should be outlawed.

        "Excuse me sir. Can I see your driver's lisence and registration."
          "Sure thing officer.", trying to put on my best Greg Bradey
          impression, as I hand him my information.
        "Are you intoxicated son?"
          "Officer... my entire family has the flu. Trust me, you don't
          want to get too close. Check out my winshield. I went into
          a sneezing fit, and I nearly blew my brain out through my
          nostrils. My friends probably have it too."
        "Uh... okay. I'll be right back."

Officer Jelly Roll goes back to his car, while we all sit patiently. 

        "You guys know the game. Don't look paranoid. Don't make any
        false movements." I said without turning my head.
         "Yeah... we know. Do you think he suspects? I have a fuckin
         tank of gaseoline between my legs."
        "Naw... not unless that's crank crystal on the floor?"
         "Where?"
        "Just joking. Don't do anything. He can see our movements 
        from his car."

        The cop comes back.

        "Sir... could you step out of the car please."
          "Sure officer." 

          So I step out of the car, and follow him to the back of the 
automobile, directly behind the license plate.

        "Is this your Nissan, or your parents?"
          "It's mine sir."
        "Let me ask you one question. What makes you think that you
        are better than me?"
          "Excuse me sir?"
        "Explain this damn bumper sticker."
          "Which one?"
        "This one."
          "Oh... that one."
         "What does it say?"
          "Certified Cop Killah... I don't know how that got on there
          but it's coming off right now." 
          
        I start to pull the bumper sticker off, while the cop scribbeled
in his notepad, and hands me a piece of paper.

        "It's a warning ticket. Slow down next time son, you'll get where 
        you're going alive and alot faster. If you find the asshole who 
        put that sticker on your car, let me know who he is. I patrol this 
        area between 9pm and 3am. Merry Christmas.", he walked back to his 
        cruiser and cruised away.
          "Yeah... Merry Christmas to you too, asshole.", I said under
          my breath.

          I walk back to the driver's side, and got in.

        "So... what did he say?"
          "He wanted me to bend over and show him my ass."
        "Naw, for real? Did he give you a ticket? Did he say 
          anything about the gaseoline?"
          "He didn't say a word about the gaseoline, but he did
          bitch about my bumper sticker, gave me a warning ticket,
          and wished me a Merry Christmas."
        "Gawd damn oinker!", Jim shouted. "I should of hit him in 
        the head with the sledgehammer. bwahahahahahaha...." 

        Maybe I was too lucky, or maybe the cop was drunk. There was no
way that he could of not seen the gaseoline tank that Brian was holding.
I wasn't going to wait for my luck to run out, so we continued on.


Chapter Six

        I can remember times being more fucked up than I was during that car 
ride, but very few of them come to mind. I could feel the speed coaxing
through my veins, rushing into my brain. The highway seemed to swirl,
and sometimes shake, but most of the time I couldn't see the highway
through my watery eyes. Yet... miracles do sometimes happen, and I guess
in a way, a miracle happened to us that night. It was a fuckin miracle
that we didn't have a wreck, or that Officer Friendly didn't do
a cavity search on any one of us. Maybe it was a miracle that once we got 
there, none of us could remember how, and only a few vague images stuck 
in our heads as to the events that transpired over this journey. "It's our 
memories that can get us into trouble.", I thought. "Those moments in time 
where we feel good or guilty." Sometimes it's better that life is only 90% 
memory. 
        
        The laundrymat was centered a block from a church, and two blocks
from the Venford police station. We drove around for twenty minutes,
not knowing what to do.

        "We're too fucked up to do this. Is that Wagner?"
           "You've been saying that all night." Brian said to me.
           "Who the hell is Wagner?"
        "Nevermind, it must be the raido."
           "The raido isn't on. Whoa, stop here. Stop man."
        "Hold up. I'll park down the street, in case the shit goes
        down."
           "Where?"
        "The church parking lot."
           "Alright. The job'll probably be done by the time you get back."

           I dropped Jim and Brian off in that parking lot, and watched them
move behind the store. I moved my Nissan into the chruch lot, in the back,
behind a million other cars of the midnight congregation. I could hear
the chorous of "Silent Night", and I laughed to myself. "It will be far
from a silent night this Christmas Eve."

        I walked down the street, below the flickering lamps, and the
red and green christmas decor hanging from every lamppost. "What the 
hell am I doing here." I kept asking myself. "I'm freezing my ass off,
and drove all the way out here to burn down a fuckin laundrymat
on Christmas Eve. I should have my head examined."

        I moved close to the store, and changed my strut behind the 
overgrowth to the back. We were fortunate in the respect that trees
and bushes protected an outsider's view into the rear of the laundrymat.
Jim had already busted out the lock on the back door with the
sledgehammer we all knew that would never be used.

        "Ha! And all you assholes said that we wouldn't need the hammer!",
        Jim contorted.
          "Man... lets stop fucking around and get this shit over with."

          So... we took turns dousing the place down. Brian poured the
gas while Jim and I directed him to areas of the store that were not
victimized yet. 

        "Hurry man. Get the front doused down so that we can get away
        from the store window."
          "Alright Ben. We're almost finished."

          We moved into the back room, behind the register, after making sure 
that we had gotten the front as well as we could. Brian followed us out the
door, as he trailed the gaseoline into a line to mark our being there.

        "So... who's going to send the shithouse into flames?" Brian
        said.
          "We didn't even take anything."
        "Not enough time. We're just here to burn the place."
          "I can't. You do it, Brian." Jim said.
          I couldn't do it either. 
        "Fuck both of you. I'll do it.... shit. Is that what I think it
        is?"
           "Yeah brutha, that's 50. Let's get the fuck out of here 
           fast."
        
        From the bushes to the outside I could make out the stilhetto of
a cop car, with the cop sitting driver side, radioing in for backup.

        "Shit... someone hook me up with matches or a lighter."

        We searched out pants and every pocket we had, but no lighter or
matches could be found.

        "Fuck! We buy the gas, we break in, get everything doused,
        but no one has any matches. Shit!!!"
           "Just fuckin run man. Just fuckin run fast.", I yelled at him,
        making aim for the bushes.

        The cops must of been slow, because it seemed like we took our
time finishing this job that was never done. One of the neighbors must of 
narced us out. Somehow we made it out of there before the cops could figure 
out what was going on, and all of this only took a couple of seconds. It's 
easy to run when running is all you do.

        I was coming down, so driving was not that hard, the run 
through the bushes and overgrowth, and especially the cops sobered me
up pretty good. All I could think of was getting as far away from Venford
as we could, and the city couldn't be close enough. Strangly the ride
back was quicker than the ride to. We were all too petrified to talk, 
considering the close encounters we had with too many Johnny Q Laws
that night.

        I loosened up to a little Bob, and cranked the heat up on full blast.
I was surprised to see all the cops outside "Franks Laundry", I don't
think I've ever seen more cops with their guns pulled, and billyclubs
ready, but for a riot that occurred at a Grateful Dead show in Indiana,
a summer ago. I had no right to be looking at that. I was just happily
content with this moment in my life being over.


Chapter Seven

... but it wasn't over.

                                                                        
        A little before noon I recieved a phone call from Frank.

        "Ben... wake up!"
           "What's up man? I'm sleeping. The plan went to shit."
        "You guys did great. I just came back from the store. It's
        totally up in flames."
           "What the fuck?!? The cops busted everything up too soon.
           we didn't even have time to find a pack of matches."
        "Well... maybe I'm getting rewarded for something good in life,
        but somehow you guys found a way to burn the place down."
           "Well... that's wierd man. I'm going back to bed."

           It was never explained to us, but somehow we knew that it was
not us that setted that blaze. I went out there that evening. Supposingly
the blaze was so big that the Church, next door, had to be evacuated.
The place was nothing but ashes, and burnt up clothes. I could see a  
contorted gas container, that Brian threw in fear of the law, yet I couldn't 
find the sledgehammer or the bolt cutters.

        It was "vandals" in the paper, and somehow we made the blame on
the television and the radio too. "Vandals Almost Ruin Christmas" but in a 
way it made mine. I never saw Christmas as that much of a holiday. It's just
one day out of the year to treat people nice, and the rest of the year
you get to treat them like shit again.

        Yet... after all of this, Frank had a very Merry Christmas. The
insurance company sent him a check for $30,000 to repair his buisness,
additional money to relocate, and a year's lost wages. He was so happy
and filled with the giving spirit that he hooked us all up with a grand
a piece, bought a pound of kind bud, and a couple of grams of dope
for us to kick back and party on.

        Somehow... time and time again, I remember Jim and Brian. Where
they are today I don't know. They went the way of all good people, they
made a home far away from this independent ghost town. Yet... here I 
remain, and sometimes when I get too close to a pine tree, I think I can
smell gaseoline, but it's only my imagination... I guess. Maybe Santa
filled our stockings that night, and gave us coal all the other days
of the year. Maybe some god saw us as nothing less than what we are,
and decided Frank too was worthy of his. Maybe all these things,
but I don't question anything anymore. Sometimes good things happen
to bad people, and the other way around. And we weren't really all that bad.
There's still a couple ounces of dank bud under my tree, and no questions in 
my mind... I've got a new bong to puff out of. So this is where I make my 
parting. I guess I could add "A Merry Christmas to all and to all a good 
night", but I won't. ;)

           (c) Mister E. and
R E V I V A L  L I T E R A R Y  C O R P
    .. all rights phat and jolly ..


werd up and greets go out to the following:

Mr. Muff - thanks again mofo for all the help with Revival and the
           board. :) you dah mack!
Khyron   - this bitch went to Scandanavia (the country not the health
           spa). hahaha.... Have a great trip Paul!!!
Naplam   - Congradulations with the great job on cia! I'm still beggin
           for that menuset. :) hehe... 
Sudden Death, Amorphis and the Delusion Crew - For everything!!! w00p!! ;)
Argon, Revolt, TiLT, Sludge, Isded, Hiro and everyone I forgot.


party it up this Christmas with Mister E.'s patented Christmas blunt. I 
never roll the Phillies, I always pack em. ;) Load up on cheetos and dip
too.


