ROBLOG #613

Where have Jane and Blanche been- you ask?

I dunno.

Away, I guess.

Anyway, here they are back again on my RobBlog

Relax and enjoy our two favourite Bleeker Street Gals.

 

It's 230pm on a Thursday afternoon in winter...

 

Jane: What in tarnation are you look at outside this window? ~puff. puff~

 

Blanche: Nothing, Jane Dear. Just watching life go by. It's a wonderful world out there Sister.

 

Jane: Wonderful?? For who? You? ~ drag, puff~ You are fucking this close to being stupid Blanche.

 

Blanche: Oh, now Jane. That's not a very nice thing to say. ~pause~ So, Jane how about making a plan to move forward. A plan to say- stop your filthy smoking habit and maybe another plan to reduce the amount rouge you smear all over your saggy cheeks.

 

Jane: Well, that is a fine howdy-do for someone who takes care of you day in and day out like a real sister. ~drag, puff~

 

Blanche: Blanche Darling, you are my real sister.

 

Jane: Oh shut the fuck up. Don't remind me.

 

Blanche: Jane, just look out there, it's a whole wide, wonderful world, see?

 

 

Jane: All I see are two birds sittin' in that Magnolia tree shitting and eating, shitting and eating. What good are they for. The only good bird is a big dead one roasting in my oven! Birds! ~puff, puff~ All they do is shit and eat.

 

Blanche: Just like you. ~chuckle~

 

Jane: Look Sister Dear, how be I shove you and that filthy, foul-smelling chair down the basement steps?

 

Blanche: Oh, come now Jane, you'd never do that.! Who's look after you day in and day out.

 

Jane: Yes, I know. I know. I'm a little bit crazy. ~puff, puff~

 

Blanche: A little bit??

 

Jane: Okay. A lot crazy but at least I got something going for me unlike you festering away in that coffin on wheels! ~drag, puff~

 

Blanche: Oh Jane ~titter, tee hee~ Make me a peppermint tea will ya.

 

Jane: %^$#  ^&%$ to you to Blanche!

 

ROBBLOG #612

 

A Christmas Fable of sorts for your Holiday enjoyment. It's really a bit of a weird Holiday tale and I have no idea where it came from. I just sat at the keyboard and the keys magically did the rest.

Happy Holidays and Fah, Lah, Lah, Lah, Lah, Lah, Lah!

 

A Christmas Fable

 

You see, the day was Christmas Eve, a few years ago.

By that I mean it wasn't yesterday or last week. That's the idea I am trying to get across to you, Dear Reader. The weather was temperate yet a less than real, potato-flake snowfall clung to the lampposts and the Christmas Shoppers who were scurrying along Bleeker Street in Camden Town.

 

At the far end of Bleeker Street at number 172B, one found the dismal, store-front business office of Squeegee and Surly- chartered accountants. The sign stating the obvious was hung overtop the doorway. Below, inside the front window in this dismal piece of a storefront office sat old Ebenezer Squeegee. Surly left the company seven years before to become a WalMart greeter and Squeegee hadn't bothered to change the signage. Anyway, Ebeneezer Squeegee sat counting his money.

 

Not far away in another chilly, dismal office, sat a shivering Bob Scratchit, Squeegee's clark.

At least when Bob told folks what he did at Squeegee and Surly, he referred to himself as a "clark". It was probably just his accent, since in reality he was a clerk.

 

Bob's Bic pen scratched away on the paper in front of him.

"Fuck, it's cold in here. So cold that I have to pee again!"- he grumbled under his breath.

Setting the pen down he slid from the wooden stool where he was perched and left his office turning right down the hall to the gents. As he turned he saw Squeegee counting his money.

"Old Bastard"- he thought, even though Christmas was nigh.

 

After relieving himself in the executive outhouse in the back alley, Bob walked back towards his office. As he stepped towards his desk, he heard an unusually hearty laugh coming from Mr. Squeegee's office. Right then and there, Bob decided to grow a pair and ask for the following day- Christmas Day, off. Hell, he might even ask for the whole week as long as he didn't have to do any special favours for old Squeegee- if you know what I mean. Nudge. Nudge. Winkety-wink!

 

No! Not those kind of favours Dear Reader and tsk tsk for you thinking that way! It's Christmas after all. Now, pull yourself from the depraved gutter where your mind lives and read on with a light heart. What I meant was favours like washing his car or trimming Squeegee's ear hairs.

Really readers!

You all are disgusting.

May Jesus- if he existed that is, have mercy on your unholy souls!

 

Now back to this yuletide fable...

 

No, Bob would put his size 10 and a halfs down. This year there's be no bullshit favours performed. In that he was unilingually unanimous!

A shoe shine perhaps in the spirit of the season but he wasn't going to look down into Squeege's ugly, old, hairy ears again this year. He still shuttered when he thought about it.

Yuck!

Bob was still shuddering at the memory as he stepped into the doorway of Ebenezer Squeegee's office. He knocked respectfully on the door before he spoke.

"Excuse me. Sir?"

Squeegee stopped counting and turned off his Samsung Pad.

 

Old bugger probably looking at porn again, I'll wager- thought Bob Scratchit.

"Pardon Sir, but what with tomorrow being Christmas Day, I thought maybe you might just make the decision and close the office down for the next week so as both of us might make merry and enjoy the holiday period"- Bob Cratchit said meekly to his employer.

"Whaat? Who the fuck is this Mary you wanna make?"- Squeegee's tone was gruff and stinky. Actually the stinky part was probably his feet, since Bob could see Squeegee had kicked his shoes off.

 

'What do you mean Scratchit? Spit it out!"- Squeegee growled.

"I meant, will you be needing me to come to work, sir? and...and...maybe you could take a much needed repose yourself Sir. I mean you are looking rather old and tired."

Bob wanted to say he smelled as well but thought better of it.

"Old? Tired? Screw you Bobby boy!" Squeegee paused and had a think. Well, either he had a think or it was gas.

 

"So, you want Christmas Day. Christmas Day! Bah, humbug!" replied Squeegee.

 

Bob Scratchit started to tremble just a bit. He pee'd a bit too and after he had only just emptied his bladder.

Bah. Bumhug.

"I suppose if you must have the day off ya better get the scissors and trim these ears of mine and while you're at it sonny boy you can pluck away some of these nasty nose hairs as well. Maybe even a Brazilian. Now get to work! Heh. Heh." Squeegee started to smile.

 

"Wait! Wait just a dicky dongle Ebeneezer Squeegee! I am not interested in performing acts of personal hygiene on you once more all in the name of Christmas! In fact- I refuse to do so!" Bob was firm and it had nothing to do with the fact that he felt a little "turned on" thinking of giving his boss a Brazilian.

 

"Oh, All righty then. What do you have in mind Darling wee Bobby?" Squeegee suddenly sounded sweet as pie." Come over here and let me give you a hard Holiday hug."

 

Bob Scratchit suddenly started to feel a bit uncomfortable and he quickly blurted out-

"Perhaps, if I let you look at these selfies I took at the beach last year. I'm wearing my blue speedos!"

Bob pulled out his Samsung Edge phone.

"Would that be good enough kind, gentle master?"

He winced as he said it. His inside voice said- Damn, why did I bring up those Speedo photos?

 

Ebenezer Squeegee began to rise.

I mean from his chair you filthy, fable-reading buggers!

 

 

 

As he got up from his chair Squeegee looked Bob right in the eyes and extended his hand.

Bob looked at Squeegee's strong, hard fingers and said-

"Well now it takes a big boss to offer his hand to an underling. Thankee!"

"It's simply an show of thanks in the spirit of the season." crowed Ebeneezer.

 

Bob Scratchit felt small and awful. He grabbed Ebeneezer Squeegee's hand and gave it a hardy shake.

 

As he did so Squeegee cried out- "Ha Hah Bobby Boy. Gotcha! Just before you walked into my office, I just had this hand down the front of my slacks having a good old scratch.

Now you have my plum pudding scent all over your pinkies. Cripes Bob Scratchit! This is the best Christmas yet. Hah! Hah! Hah!"

 

Bob recoiled and smelled his hand. Sure enough! Squeegee was all over his palm. Yuck!

"Very funny Sir. Very funny. You sure got me this time- didn't you." Bob wiped his palm on his pants all the while cursing under his breath.

"So are we going to enjoy the holiday or not, Sir?" Bob asked again with a weak smile.

 

Ebeneezer Squeegee looked Bob Scratchit right in the eyes for a second time and extended his other hand.

"Of course. Now, have a very Happy Christmas Bob. I mean it. Maybe I don't tell you enough how valuable you are to me."

 

Bob looked at Squeegee's other hand and warmly reached out to give it a firm Holiday shake.

 

"Hah and Hah again Bob! You're just too easy. I got my stuff all over this hand too.

Hah. Hah. Ho. Ho Ho!"

 

Bob pulled back his hand reaching for a wet nappy from a package that sat on Squeegee's desk. Now he knew why they were there.

Yucky he thought!

 

Squeegee was still chortling as Bob finished wiping his hands clean and then disposing of the wet nappy in the garbage can next to Squeegee's desk.

 

"Okay, Bob my lad. Sorry. That wasn't as good as last year's Holiday prank when I poured crazy glue all over the toilet seat in the gents but I guess it'll have to do. Look Bob, take a good holiday break and just for being such a good sport and employee I'm going to double your wages but be sure you are here all the earlier the day after the Holidays are through. Christmas is not an excuse for being a lazy clark! It's a poor excuse in fact."

 

"Yes Sir! Yes Sir! I'll be here and earlier than ever! You'll see!"

Bob was ecstatic. He jumped up on Squeegee's desk and started to table dance to an old Cher song playing on a radio somewhere in Squeegee's office. He looked down at Ebeneezer Squeegee who was shoving his hands down the front of his slacks. Damn! He must have a radio shoved down there too!

Bob soon realized what his dancing was leading to and swiftly jumped to the floor!

 

Gaining some composure and slicking his oily hair back into place he asked-

"So, Sir. What are your holiday plans?"

 

Ebenezer removed his panty hands from his slacks.

"Well you remember that blonde lad Bruce who brought me the prize turkey a few years back?"

 

"Yes. I do and just to confirm that lad was legal and 19. He also brought the butcher back in record time- if I remember the story. Dickens of a day that was Sir!"

 

"Indeed." said Squeegee, "but now that lad is a sturdy 24 years old and built like a brick

workhouse. I've invited him over to sample my gruel tonight."

 

"Oh Sir!" Bob smirked. "Gruel. Is that a euphemism for....?"

Ebeneezer Squeegee scowled and glared at Bobby Scratchit straight in the eyes as was his usual way and said-

"Get your mind out of the Christmas Guttersock Bob!"

 

Bob smiled a wide holiday grin. "Good one. Sir! Merry Christmas! A very Merry Christmas Sir!"

 

He turned on his fashionable heels and headed back to his own office looking forward to the time when he could put down his scratchy pen and head home to his wife- Mrs. Beverley Scratchit. Beverley was a cross-dresser and her name was really Roger but Bob didn't mind. He didn't mind one little bit for Beverley could cook a turkey so moist it would make any Queen weep. Also, Dear Readers, her giblets were superb!

Beverley's giblets- not the Queen's, I mean.

 

 

That night, Squeegee went home to his huge manor house. He ate a cold supper of salad and oysters and waited for Bruce to arrive.

When Bruce finally did so, Ebeneezer Squeegee encouraged the brawny lad- who in deed was at the age of 24, not to waste a minute of time for the oysters were starting to have their desired effect on Squeegee's manly bits.

 

 

 

Later, in the middle of the night, Ebeneezer was awakened suddenly by a strange noise in his room. It sounded like huffing and puffing. Was it a ghost of Christmas Past?

He sat up in his bed and saw Bruce- who was 24 years old may I remind you, doing push ups on the carpet across the room in front of the roaring fire.

Seeing this vision of a man, Squeegee threw back the bedclothes and hurried downstairs to consume even more oysters. Then, as quickly as he ran down the stairs, he ran back up again taking the steps two at a time.

Silly old bugger. He was past being athletic Dear Readers.

Way past!

 

Ebeneezer needed to make merry once more- or at least in this case Bruce- and perhaps have a good old game of "Blind Man's Buff"!

No explanation required Dear Readers, if you catch my drift!

 

As Ebeneezer Squeegee hopped back into bed he began to sing ever so loudly his favourite Holiday tune of all time- O Come All Ye Faithful!

 

As Squeegee sang every note in the Spirit of the Christmas Season, Bruce- who was 24 years old you will by now remember, hopped back into bed, his massive chest ruddy-red from the exertion of the push ups on the floor before the flaming hearth.

Red just happened to be Ebeneezer Squeegee's favourite colour- the old Queen that he was!

 

As Bruce set to work Ebeneezer sang out in  the most perfect and wonderful High C ever heard-

"Merry Christmas, Everyone!"

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ROBBLOG #611

 

Here are a few of my favourite things!

 

Raindrops on roses- of course.

Whiskers on kittens.

That goes without saying...

 

Then there's the crisp smell of a December morning.

Lights sparkling on gold-bedecked trees in our parlour.

 

The windows on Oxford Street in London.

The Christmas Market on Paris' Champs d'Elysses.

 

Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.

The Harry Simeon Chorale singing The Little Drummer Boy.

The Queen's Message:

 

...when they all go home!

Hot chocolate.

Scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam.

 

Watching Home Alone2 and Holiday Inn.

The song Jingle Bells, Little Drummer Boy and Silver Bells.

 

A turkey Roasting in the oven.

Cranberries.

Holiday Dinner with friends.

 

The 900 twinkling lights on our Keeping Room Tree.

The hundred or so glass ornaments bought at various shops at home, away and far away like London and Paris.

 

Browsing through Holiday magazines for Christmas ideas.

 

 

 

Walking our schnauzers- Missy and Koko, in a soft, gentle snowfall.

The Christmas lights in our neighbourhood.

Our Orange boys- Dickens and Doyle in the snow on the side verandah while they wait for puddy breakfast.

 

The Manger Scene my Grandma Reid started for me by letting me purchase three 29 cent figurines- hand-painted in Italy, bought at Orillia's Woolworth Store in 1962 or so.

 

The tri-coloured bell that hung on our tree at our Lake Simcoe Home in the 1950's, that now hangs on our Keeping Room tree in my own home.

 

My husband Tom in his Santa Hat.

 

The Holiday Tunes on my online radio stations- Swisssh and Starlite. 

 

 

 

Having a tea and apple fritter at Mariposa Market.

 

and

 

the quiet, peaceful, stillness of a Christmas Eve.

 

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas.