MONDO EXTRAS

A Diva's Christmas Carol

by Heathen December 19, 2000
A Diva's Christmas Carol

Ernie walks in and greets Bob with, "Cratch," except it sounds like "crotch" and the six-year-old in me giggles gleefully. Wait, so does the twenty-three-year-old. Ernie asks Ebony to sign the contact for The Charity, which when pressed, Ebony fibs is something called the National Homeless Coalition. Bob wonders if they're any good. "Sure. They help the homeless," Ernie breezes. Bob and Ebony spew things about homeless shelters and tax dollars, and I heard the words "rat hole," but I don't think it was in reference to Ebony's mouth or Ernie's nostrils, or even Richard Gere's derriere. Bob throws out a reference to Marli's death and how it might have colored Ebony's perception of Christmas, but Ebony shakes it off, saying she's just tired. Bob touches her shoulder and offers Ebony hot milk to help her sleep, and I bet he knows just the udder to provide it. Oh, but as if reading my mind, Ebony fires back with, "Bob, you're not my Daddy," and I embrace the writers as my favorite kind of euphemism fiends. "I need sleep, not spooge," Ebony says, although that last word comes out sounding more like "calcium." As Bob leaves, Ebony takes a pill with her glass of wine and then picks up the phone. A Marie Antoinette portrait on the wall starts morphing strangely into Marli's image -- it's Chilli from TLC -- and Ebony freaks out a bit, but it stops. She orders dinner -- spinach salad, "but make sure the spinach is washed, or...I'm sending it back"; tuna, seared rare or "I'm sending it back"; and pasta al dente, or "I'm coming down there and shoving it up your..." Sigh. She also orders me chicken marinated in "I get it" sauce, served with "Duh" veggies, homemade "my dead hamster gets it" dressing and potatoes with melted "the whole world pretty much knows the fucking plot already" butter.

Suddenly, the room starts to shake and there's a low rumbling. Lights flicker. Ebony freaks that New York doesn't have earthquakes. Perhaps it's a heartquake. She peeks under the couch -- nope, no heartquake there -- and then gingerly approaches a vase, primed and ready to cope with whatever earth-shaking evils are contained therein. A particularly moldy thorn, perhaps, or lukewarm water. The room-service delivery boy interrupts her hunt, then leaves before she eats anything. The spinach isn't clean enough for Ebony, so she calls back in a huff and the room starts shaking again. Lightning strikes. The mini-bar flips open -- "I'm not paying for that!" snarls Ebony, and for once I agree with her because if I'm forking over four dollars for a Snickers, it had best be bigger than my arm. Wind blows, lights flicker. None of the candles move, though, a nifty bit of physics-avoidance. To escape, Ebony opens the door and Marli pops in for a visit. Ebony screams.

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A Diva's Christmas Carol

by Heathen December 19, 2000
A Diva’s Christmas Carol Ernie walks in and greets Bob with, "Cratch," except it sounds like "crotch" and the six-year-old in me giggles gleefully. Wait, so does the twenty-three-year-old. Ernie asks Ebony to sign the contact for The Charity, which when pressed, Ebony fibs is something called the National Homeless Coalition. Bob wonders if they're any good. "Sure. They help the homeless," Ernie breezes. Bob and Ebony spew things about homeless shelters and tax dollars, and I heard the words "rat hole," but I don't think it was in reference to Ebony's mouth or Ernie's nostrils, or even Richard Gere's derriere. Bob throws out a reference to Marli's death and how it might have colored Ebony's perception of Christmas, but Ebony shakes it off, saying she's just tired. Bob touches her shoulder and offers Ebony hot milk to help her sleep, and I bet he knows just the udder to provide it. Oh, but as if reading my mind, Ebony fires back with, "Bob, you're not my Daddy," and I embrace the writers as my favorite kind of euphemism fiends. "I need sleep, not spooge," Ebony says, although that last word comes out sounding more like "calcium." As Bob leaves, Ebony takes a pill with her glass of wine and then picks up the phone. A Marie Antoinette portrait on the wall starts morphing strangely into Marli's image -- it's Chilli from TLC -- and Ebony freaks out a bit, but it stops. She orders dinner -- spinach salad, "but make sure the spinach is washed, or...I'm sending it back"; tuna, seared rare or "I'm sending it back"; and pasta al dente, or "I'm coming down there and shoving it up your..." Sigh. She also orders me chicken marinated in "I get it" sauce, served with "Duh" veggies, homemade "my dead hamster gets it" dressing and potatoes with melted "the whole world pretty much knows the fucking plot already" butter. Suddenly, the room starts to shake and there's a low rumbling. Lights flicker. Ebony freaks that New York doesn't have earthquakes. Perhaps it's a heartquake. She peeks under the couch -- nope, no heartquake there -- and then gingerly approaches a vase, primed and ready to cope with whatever earth-shaking evils are contained therein. A particularly moldy thorn, perhaps, or lukewarm water. The room-service delivery boy interrupts her hunt, then leaves before she eats anything. The spinach isn't clean enough for Ebony, so she calls back in a huff and the room starts shaking again. Lightning strikes. The mini-bar flips open -- "I'm not paying for that!" snarls Ebony, and for once I agree with her because if I'm forking over four dollars for a Snickers, it had best be bigger than my arm. Wind blows, lights flicker. None of the candles move, though, a nifty bit of physics-avoidance. To escape, Ebony opens the door and Marli pops in for a visit. Ebony screams.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14Next

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