Sylvan Three Times Over (FF)

© Dee Lovering

Farnum wasn't much of a writer but he loved to write stories about a young man named Sylvan and the Christmases Sylvan enjoyed from years gone by.

Farnum himself was a rather minor character in a book written by a novelist named Giorgio.  Giorgio for his sake had been created by Cinnamon Klein, a New York City pulp fiction writer and amateur detective.

"And so ends another Cinnamon Klein Mystery,” I typed, closing

the laptop.

The phone rang.  "Yes, who is it?"

"Merry Christmas, Perry!  This is Sylvan."

“Sylvan?  But you're fictional!  You're fictional three times over!" 

"Well, I guess Farnum is a lot better writer than you, Cinnamon, or Giorgio ever gave him credit for, isn't he?” 

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To be honest, I really can't figure out this goofy post came out of a Christmas prompt. I think the circular nature of the building got me thinking about layers of stories and how many "levels" away from the author a character in a story within a story might be.

To review:  Farnum created Sylvan, Giorgio created Farnum, Cinnamon Klein created Giorgio, I created Cinnamon Klein, and Russell created me.  There you have it.  And if you click here, you'll also have the takes of the other Friday Fictioneers on the picture prompt above, created just for you.

And should any of you happen to see Cinnamon Klein, please tell I created her, it's not fair she won't return my calls!

Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Holidays

LA is a city of some seven million people.  That's a lot of folks with a lot of different hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Me, I'm just another one of the seven million.  But my line of work is a bit different from most of the other suckers.

I'm Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Holidays!

How did I get into this racket? I used to be Sam Kane, Finder of Lost Cellphones. That was good money at $500 a day plus expenses until people caught on all they had to do was dial their own cellphone number and they'd find their phone under the bed or in their other pants pocket. 

So I'm working the holiday heist beat these days. I'd like to say it's a living, but with three ex-wives and enough alimony to sink Bill Gates, that it could never be!

Well, I was sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon that was so slow Governor Christie could have beaten it in a foot race. I was boning up on the latest news in lost or missing holidays  --- North Dakota's Rock Salt Festival had just gone missing and in Indonesia someone had ripped off Kimono Dragon Entrails Day --- when she came in.

"Mr. Kane?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"I need your help."

The dame stood four foot three with a shape like a bassoon.  She had short tufts of red hair, a pushed in nose, and toenails you could use for mountain climbing. If you're looking for a story with a little romantic interlude later on, you better look elsewhere.  

"So what's your beef, sister?"

"Mr. Kane, I'm Angelica Who from Whoville."

I was familiar with Whoville. I'd spent two weeks there one night. 

"Mr. Kane," she went on, "someone has stolen Christmas!"

"Beg pardon?"

"Everythings gone. Decorations, presents, Santa, reindeer, elves ..."

"Baby Jesus too?"

"Yes, Baby Jesus too!  And every last bit of gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

And myrrh!  The words cut through me like a knife sold on a late night infomercial which dramatically cuts your time making julienne fries.  Only one man was devious enough to steal myrrh.  The same one man who actually knew what myrrh was!

"Sister, I already know who the culprit is," I told Ms. Who."It's Maximilian De Grinchford Jr., an international holiday thief of great renown, also known as the Grinch."

"How do you know it's him?" asked the Whoville doll.

"The Grinch is the only one who has the capability to pull off this job. Why, he's the one who stole St. Clorox Day!"  

"What's St. Clorox Day?"

"See that?  Stole it so cleanly you don't even remember it existed. It was the late March holiday for liquid bleach."

I knew that the Grinch had been seen in Eastern Europe trying to fence parts of Labor Day he'd stolen last September, specifically a load of barbecue equipment and one beer cooler. I bid Ms. Who goodbye after grabbing a retainer of $250 and credit for one shitload of candy canes once I got Christmas back, and headed for Prague in the Czech Republic.

Upon arrival I made a number of connections among the seamiest and most dangerous of local underworld types including guys with highly visible neck tattoos that read "I Savor Parsing the New Yorker" until I found a gentleman named Willie the Snitch who directed me to Cafe Praguelegs, where at long last at a corner table behind a vail of smoke seated next to a leggy blond was the green-hued gentleman I knew as the Grinch. 

"Hello, Grinch, it's been a while."

"Kane! Why, I haven't seen you since you tried to pin that St. Clorox Day job on me. Getting whiter whites these days, are you?"

I wasn't gonna rise to the bait.

"Grinch, I'm not going to screw around.  You've got Christmas, I want it back."

"I don't know anything about any Christmas, Kane,"  said the Grinch.

"Then why is Will Ferrell as Elf sticking out of your left pocket?"

"Um ... no, Kane, that's not Will Ferrell as Elf.  That's Will Ferrell as Anchorman. Totally different thing."

Sounded reasonable.  But then I remembered the Grinch thought Anchorman was overrated, just like I did. I leaped at the Grinch with a karate chop to the neck, but unfortunately I missed and killed Will Ferrell.  Kind of a shame but at least we're spared another Anchorman sequel.

And thus began a chase across the four corners of he world

I caught up with the Grinch in Istanbul, where we exchanged gunfire. I had to exchange mine because it was in the wrong color and size;  I don't why he took his back. Then I tracked him to Venezuela where we fought hand to hand, then Madrid where we fought hand to ankle and nose to elbow, and finally to Stockholm where we fought hair weave to hair weave and hand wave to hand wave at a distance of 25 feet. 

I knocked the Grinch to the ground with a hand wave nothing short of the way Granny waves at the end of The Beverly Hillbillies and was upon him.

"WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!"  I cried "WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!!"

  "Kane!  Kane! I give up," gasped the Grinch.

"WHERE'S CHRISTMAS?!!!" 

"You're not going to believe me, Kane," sputtered the Grinch, "but I gave it away!"

"You gave it away?  You gave it away? Well, excuse me, Mother Teresa!"

"I swear it, Kane! I gave it away."

"To whom?"

"I gave it to the people of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and everywhere in Western Africa struggling with Ebola. They need it."

I was stunned.

"I'll have to confirm that, Grinch.  But what possessed you?"

"For some reason this year, Kane, my heart grew three sizes."

"That's impressive, Grinch.  I'd like to duplicate that growth on myself, but on a different body part."

Well, it turned out the Grinch was telling the truth.  He'd given the nations of Western Africa a one year loaner of Christmas, to be returned to the folks of Whoville by next year. When I told them, the residents of Whoville were delighted to help out those less fortunate in this way.  Plus I'd still get all my promised candy canes next year and I had a pretty hot romantic interlude with Angelica Who after all.  

What are you gonna do?

As for me and the Grinch ...

"Well, Grinch, it looks like this could be the start of a beautiful friendship! Grinch?  Grinch?"

"Goddamit, Grinch, get your hands off Hanukkah!"

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Your Holiday Medley

Your Holiday Medley!

Sing along with us now....

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Fordy the Snowman

Fordy the Snowman was a jolly happy soul,

With a big crack pipe and an enlarged nose

And bloodshot eyes that burned like coal.

Fordy the Snowman is a sorry tale, they say.

He always had great blow and the voters 

know he rarely came to work each day.

There must have been some magic in that
 old crack coke he found,

For when he used it to feed his head, he began to fuck around!

Oh, Fordy the Snowman could connive, oh lordy be;

And party brethren say he could drink and play,

while shaming you and me.

Thumpety thump, thump, thumpety thump, thump,

look at Fordy go!

Thumpety thump, thump, thumpety thump, thump,

It's a Drunken Stupor Show!  

Fordy the Snowman knew the law was hot that day,

so he said, "Let's run, and we'll have some fun now, before I'm sent away."

Down to the village, with his small stick in his hand,

Stumbling here and there, all around the square,

sayin' "you can kiss my big fat can!"

He led them down the streets of town, right to the Canadian cop;

and only paused a moment, when he heard the cop holler, "Stop! (you dickhead)"

For Fordy the Snowman had to hurry on his way,

But he waved goodbye, sayin' "Don't you cry, I'll be back ELECTION DAY!"

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DISMAY RIDE

  Just hear those sleigh bells jingling

Sexually commingling too!

Come on, it's lovely weather

For a Dismay Ride together with you!

Outside the snow is falling

And friends are calling "WOO HOO!"

Come on, it's lovely weather

For a Dismay Ride together with you!

Get-it-up! Get-it-up! Get-it-up!

Let's show!

Me first, then you go!

We're tweeting in a wonderland of SHOW!

Get-it-up! Get-it-up! Get-it-up!

My gland!

It's here in my hand!

Come gliding along with my schlong
 in a twittery fairy land!

Ass cheeks are nice and rosy

At my comfy cozy PC,

Let's snuggle up together, flippin'

birds, oh how clever we'll be!

Let's shoot our load in chorus,

Until my hand is sore-us, it's true.

Come on, it's lovely weather

For a Dismay Ride together with you!

There's a decadent party at the website 
of Madam Gray.

 I will show my perfect ending in a perfect way.

I'll be slinging my schlong I love 
to sling without a single stop.

At the fireplace while you watch my chest hairs pop!

Pop! Pop! Pop!

There's a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy 
When I pass around my pictures, I'm a hunky guy.

It'll nearly be like a picture print that's creepier than hives,

These scandalous things are the things that can ruin political lives!

These scandalous things are the things that can ruin political lives!

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling

Sexually commingling too!

Come on, it's lovely weather

For a Dismay Ride together with you!

Outside the snow is falling

And friends are calling "WOO HOO!"

Come on, it's lovely weather

For a  Dismay Ride together with you!

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Obama's Christmas Song

My nuts are roasting o'er an open fire,





Jack shit is what they say I know!

"Fool!" they me deride, and they call me a liar! 

And folks pissed off like no one knows.

Everybody calls me a turkey and a great big schmoe. 

They said I'd not get health care right.

Taking shots, Fox News is enjoying my woe,

It's a big a trump card for folks on the right!

You know their mantra's on its way:

"Obama's a Socialist, a Muslim, and he's gay!"

But ev'ry mother's child gotta comply ....

To see if Obamacare really can one day fly!

And so I'm offering this health care maze

To cover kids from one to ninety-two,

Although it's been decried many times, many ways!

What the Fuck?

"Merry Christmas 

to you!"




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